The Thing With Wings
by TinkerVine le Fey
Summary: As Luna Lovegood is imprisoned in Malfoy Manor, she finds the scion of Malfoy is held just as captive as she. Together they navigate the winds of hope and survival during the darkest hours of life.
1. Preface

**I will write this ONE TIME for the folks in the back: I don't own Harry Potter, any characters you recognize, or any part of the Wizarding World franchise. NO MONETARY COMPENSATION IS TO BE GAINED FROM THIS FIC IN PART OR IT'S ENTIRETY BY ME OR ANYONE. **

xoXOXox

Welcome Back, Dear Readers!

This is a vulnerable fic that is close to my heart. I'm taking the lessons learned by my previous forays into fiction and applying them to hopefully come out with a richer, more fleshed-out story. It is fully outlined and planned to go in a linear fashion, unlike my previous fic, Many Magics.

**This is a story for adult readers only.** I may write for children in the future, but that is not the goal at this moment.

This is, above all, a story about individuals and their experiences during a war. War is without exception gruesome and tragic.

Although I recognize **triggers **for trauma-induced emotional distress are infinite and unique to the individual, I must warn you that almost **all of the most noted ones will all be present**. I don't do exceedingly graphic depictions, but there will be violence, mainly from the powerful upon the subjugated, and of the self upon the person. Power abuse, drug addiction, family separation, and children living lives they should never be subjected to are all going to be present. If these are things that cause you emotional distress, **I would rather you care for your wellbeing than read this fic. **

The title of every chapter is a line from Maya Angelou's poem Caged Bird. As such, you may want to read Caged Bird before starting this journey with us to get the full experience.

The title of the story is from Emily Dickensen's quote "Hope is the thing with wings."

I tend to insert witty commentary in most of my fics, even in the darkest moments, but this one will probably be spare with it. (Unless you are one of those people who thinks Luna is funny by nature. In which case, laugh away.)

Above all, Luna and Draco are going to learn about trust, honesty, and just maybe love. Hopefully, that will provide consolation for you after reading this tedious preface.

If it sounds like your kind of party, it would be wonderful if you could join us on this adventure.

I hope you love it.

Vine


	2. On the Grave of Dreams

_Click, click. Click, click._

The heels of my boots strike the stone as I stride through the corridor of my ancestral home.

_Click, click. Click, click._

Softer, the echoes call back to me from the icy walls, reminding me that someday I shall be Lord of this Manor.

Black envelops me neck to foot. Boots, trousers, robes, gloves. It's forever chilly in my home, but today has been positively frigid. On checking my visage before leaving my sleeping quarters, I noticed what little flesh I've left exposed has tinged a pale blue. I can't be bothered to cast a heating charm.

_Click, click. Click, sssssss…._

The diamond adders cupping my earlobes have hissed their warning. I almost pause. My eyes slide to the left.

_Dolohov_.

My chin lifts slightly in acknowledgement as I continue my trek.

I'm grateful that Father hasn't restricted the show of my jewellery when on Malfoy grounds. As of late, I've been forbidden to wear them on patrols... or missions.

My body cringes unwillingly at a recollection before I shake it off.

At least my dignity can be moderately spared as I display my worth here. On my own property, I can be reminded of who I am, or at a minimum who I am supposed to be. I can, and do, pretend I am still revered as the Heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House in all of wizardom.

In my imaginings, I am marching forth to remove the monstrous interloper who has dared impinge upon my drawing room and disturb the peace of my home.

Outside of my daydreams, the monster is my master, who has summoned me as a servant to do his vile bidding.

As I approach the threshold to what was once an entertaining room for guests, I pause before the doors sense my magic to open before me.

I remove my earrings and slide them in the pocket of my robes.

At least the doors still know where their allegiances lie. They welcome me as I prepare to meet the hostage.

xoxOxox

I wonder what the probability is that I am going to die today. Surely, my captors wouldn't see me as valuable enough to kidnap, only to dispose of me moments later.

Perhaps they plan to torture me for information? It would surely be telling of what a weak position they hold if they could only procure the daughter of a newspaper editor to squeeze information from while the Boy Who Lived and his friends are at large.

I take in all of my surroundings, especially the human elements. The hearty Eastern European man with the many tattoos who was guarding me is gone now. In his place is a strangle-y fellow with unwashed brown hair and an outdoorsy smell. He is fidgeting with his collar as if it's two sizes too small and filled with tiny needles. Probably all the wrackspurts he has nibbling on his aura. It's a pitiful little aura indeed, muddy and dim and full of uncertainty.

The walls are a dull shade of brown, lit by only a low burning torch every few meters. I had honestly expected more glory and grandeur from the inside of the Malfoy estate. At minimum polished wood on the panelling. I suppose the atmosphere is meant to feel ominous, but truly it only proves to be a poor decision in tactics. Why would one want to hold court in such a dimly lit space? Surely it would make for a needlessly difficult chase should chaos ensue.

I hold my head up because it's bound that way. Invisible chains bind my wrists, shackle my feet, and pull my chin high. A tactic to make me feel subconsciously weak no doubt, as my neck is thoroughly exposed.

Quite entertaining, that; for I'm feeling quite strong given the circumstances. Whatever they decide to do with me, it will end eventually, just like their reign of terror.

Mr. Fidget, as I have begun to call the guard in my mind, pulls on my restraints. He is leading me to the centre of the room. I go quietly, not putting up any fuss. Perhaps if they think me to be a docile little captive they might show me some leniency with these bindings.

I sigh. Apparently not. The guard kicks the back of my knees so that I fall face forward.

I land on a cushioning charm. Interesting.

A voice I remember - from school of all places - fills the corridor. It's low and drawling and positively full of menace. True menace. Not the watered-down, exasperated kind he shows the students.

"In. Tact. You blithering idiot." booms from the front of the room. "The Dark Lord has specifically requested the girl to be in an immaculate disposition to ensure utmost usefulness. Tell me, Karkaroff, what would have happened to the imbecile who broke the knees of the Dark Lord's leverage?"

Oh good! Martyrdom is off the table for me today! Can't be utmostly useful if I'm dead, now can I?

Mr Fidget, Karkaroff I suppose, grits his teeth audibly. He must be biting down his reply to my looming professor. It really wouldn't do much for his aura to crack teeth. Tooth pains are awful and terribly difficult to repair.

He must have thought the same because he growls a reply.

"You'd do well to bite your tongue on your cheeky remarks, Snape!"

My professor interrupts.

"I would do well, Karkaroff, to act as the Dark Lord commands. Since he has commanded that I am responsible for intelligence, for which you possess none, it would behove you to silence yourself when speaking to your superiors of matters you know nothing about."

Karkaroff's lips melt together as he tries for a retort, and he lands writhing on the floor. I close my eyes as his screams are muffled behind what used to be a mouth.

I never have quite understood Professor Snape. He comes off dark and foreboding, degrading those he has power over, but his aura tells the story of a different man.

It glows blue, bright as day, with just a tinge of despair lining the rim. Only a Slytherin would feel the need to hide it. I suppose he must have a decent motivation to. He doesn't mention it, I don't mention it; I always pass his class.

Looks like I am going to pass today too.

He releases my bindings. I know it was him because Karkaroff's screams have gone silent and two men in black robes are levitating what is left of him off the floor.

"Ms Lovegood." my professor intones. "You may stand."

I open my eyes and oblige, rolling my shoulders and my neck a bit. Being shackled in one position for hours is dreadful on the muscles. I nod mutely towards Professor Snape, and a spark of pain shoots up my neck.

Boots tap a rhythm on the stone behind me. Turning around is my instinct, but I suppress it to look into my Professor's black eyes.

Expecting him to invade my thoughts, I call to mind his calming blue aura. Maybe if he knows that I know… maybe something good will happen.

He doesn't. He has turned to stone, an immovable statue, another obstacle to surmount.

The footsteps behind me stop. Whoever is there is so close I expect to feel their body heat. Instead, an oppressive chill seeps into my bones and I fight back a shudder. This person is either a vampire or could sorely use a blanket.

"Draco." my Professor quips.

"Godfather." is returned from behind me.

"Your task is to ensure our leverage is secured at all times. Do not leave her without your presence." the professor instructs.

Leverage? I was right. They need me for something. A pity, on one hand, a blessing on the other I suppose.

Professor Snape looks at me, even as the cold emanating from Malfoy draws closer.

"Ms Lovegood, during your… stay… with us, you will be under a compulsory communication charm. You may speak to The Dark Lord, Draco, and myself only. So long as your father cooperates with us, no harm will come to your person. My godson will ensure such." He levels a dreadfully piercing glare assumedly towards said godson. I deduce that my person will indeed be harmed if my father does not follow orders. Best wishes, dad. Snape continues,

"Ms Lovegood, while on these grounds, you will obey the Dark Lord's commands. Be they from the Dark Lord himself, Draco, or me. You will refer to He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named as the Dark Lord at all times. Any deviance from these orders will result in your immediate execution. Am I understood? You may speak."

I haven't used my voice in days. I clear my throat to answer.

"Professor, if I may clarify," I begin hoarsely, wanting to make sure orders which may result in my execution are completely understood, so I can subvert them accordingly. "Will there be anyone else who may direct the... _Dark Lord_'s orders to me? Or only the three of you?"

"No one else is to direct you."

"Then yes, you are understood, sir."

"Very well. Draco, you will keep her where you wish. Your mother will ward the rooms of your choosing. You are dismissed."

A black glove grasps my elbow and I attempt to turn my head. My neck is still too stiff, so I shift my body towards my schoolmate-turned-prison-guard.

I was not prepared for what I saw.

xoXOXox

I've been relegated to guarding hostages. Brilliant.

I suppose there weren't any Snatchers available who could ostensibly handle a teenage girl? No, I suppose not. Not with half of them dead or in the dungeons for buggering up missions. Our best brigade couldn't manage to capture an elderly wandmaker. That was completely their fault, too. They didn't see the bludger coming as it were, which allowed the old man to escape. Good on him. I for one could sorely use a bludger at the moment.

At least it's Godfather presiding over this humiliating development. I couldn't bear the sting of Father's particularly acidic brand of mortification. The man's eyes alone can make me feel as insignificant as a flobberworm when he's been disgraced by my actions.

I would know.

I often wonder if that's why we have the Mark of Malfoy bloodline spell on our hair. So Malfoy fathers must attempt full-heartedly to make a proper scion out of their heirs before disowning them.

Not that Malfoy fathers have historically had full hearts to attempt with.

Case in point: Here I stand, effectively a prisoner of a hack regime, in my own home, ordered to guard a captive which most likely will gain us little ground in accomplishing our stated goals of killing Potter and installing a soulless dictator to power. The irony is a bitter potion indeed.

Hasn't he all the power he could ever use? He controls my ancestors' wealth, my country's Ministry, my Father, my freedom. That would be enough power for me to get drunk on for eternity.

My parents, flawed though they are, did well by me in ensuring I inherited their Occlumency. At least I have power in my own mind.

My Godfather calls me forward, threatening me with his black stare. He tells me to keep eyes on the hostage at all times. I am not to release the girl from my sight.

Wonderful, Godfather. Should I take to snorting dragon fire ash to stay eternally awake? Shall I sit on the lavatory floor to ensure I see her feet as she relieves herself? His offer to imprison her where I choose must be my recompense. It would be a dreadful waste of daylight to be surrounded by the dank unpleasantness of the dungeon floor.

_Don't blow this, Malfoy. One misstep and your head will roll._ Is implied in his gaze.

I've been running the strategy over again in my head for two days, and I lament that we can't plausibly lock the girl in the dungeons without me. If the guards down there are so uncouth and inept they can't be trusted with a young witch upon threat of torture and death, why are they not disposed of? Truly, if she is to remain alive and unscathed, my work is required. A dreadful predicament to be sure.

As we are dismissed, I grasp the girl's elbow to lead her away. She turns to me.

It's the lunatic who was the year below me in school. Crazy, unpredictable, Lovegood.

Despite her derangement, I've long believed her to be the most intelligent of Potter's outcasts. Insanity, I have found, is quite a cunning guise for those who would like to do as they please without restraint. I have a strong suspicion she has been pulling the wool over the lesser beings she associates with, and I do not intend to fall victim to her mental toying.

Nonetheless, her presence necessitates pause.

Her face is beautiful. Mockingly so. The most lovely I've seen since being forced away from my studies to be surrounded by brutes and swinish degenerates. Porcelain skin is framed by golden curls falling to her waist. Her lips are a perfect red, not pallid as would be expected of her complexion.

But her eyes, her eyes are what startle me.

They are coloured a captivating, sparkling blue. Heavy lids set them deep within her face, and yet they're so wide I'm certain I could fall into them and stay lost forever. The white wisps of her lashes brush her cheeks, calling to mind gentle snow that may have fallen just for her.

This_, she, _is my charge. Oh, how unkind the Fates can be in their wrath.

As I stare longingly, I'm baffled at myself. It must be the stress of it all and my body subverting my authority. Even my own flesh betrays my confidence. To be fair, I've not been kind to it as of late.

She speaks first.

"Hello, Malfoy."

xoXOXox

"Or is there a more respectful title I should address you by? Do you all have a ranking system I should be aware of?"

I correct myself hurriedly as to not offend someone who may enjoy seeing me broken to pieces for pleasure. For a moment, I forgot Malfoy and I are surrounded by the bloodthirsty.

Draco Malfoy looks to be deceased. His lips are blue, as is the tip of his nose. The skin of his face has paled to off-grey; a macabre sheet stretched tight and thin. The once angular bones are starkly presenting themselves in the deep caverns holding his dead eyes. They have almost exactly the same luminance of a frozen lake on a cloudy day. The muscles of his jaw are frighteningly exposed by the hollowness in his cheeks, and I can see the spit working down his throat as he swallows. I wonder if they have been keeping him locked in the dungeons as well.

His appearance, however, is not the most unsettling part.

The shining halo of his aura that has always been a vibrant green is now desolate tones of orange, red, and most disturbingly, black. A cold fire. A dying man.

How interesting it is, that moments ago I had been thinking I might come here to perish, only to discover the one truly in danger is him.

xoXOXox

Ranking system? What the hell is her problem? Is she being cheeky with me, or does she seriously find herself trying to impress me with etiquette and niceties? If she is scared and yearning to appease, she certainly isn't showing it. Her head is high and there is a ghost of a grin on her lips. Typical. As if she just happened to see me in passing on the way from Potions. Whatever Godfather is up to, he owes me for throwing such a firecrab of a hostage my way.

"My name is sufficient," I say, without inflexion, as intended. "Come."

I coax her to exit the drawing-room. The lingering ogles emanating from the perimeter disgust me, and my adders are hissing a riot in my pocket. I pull Lovegood's elbow into my ribs, simply to feel that she is _there_. As I drag in air, I feel her sharp bones dig into my connective tissue. Perhaps I am rough in my handling, but I would rather her be tucked close to ensure no incidents prematurely rob me of my assignment.

The ancient doorway booms shut in our departure. Finality. This is my life now.

As I return my jewellery to its rightful home, I can see platinum fangs shut and barbed tongues slide away into hungry mouths. Lovegood looks on with unfettered curiosity, but says nothing. It's a fine bit of charmwork they're graced with, if I dare to boast of myself. I'm sure I'll be the only one ever to do so.

Well, perhaps one other human still considers me decent.

"Mimsy." I call. The dumpy little creature materializes before me.

"Yes Master." it says.

"Fetch my mother. I'll be waiting near my quarters."

"Yes, master." The being gets out of my sight.

Lovegood and I continue walking. I generally enjoy the long walks to and from wherever it is I'm going. It's meditative. One foot to the front, over and over. Left, right, left, and so on. Walks give me time to strategize. Not to mention I should probably be seen "handling" my "charge" as it were. As degrading as this pursuit may be, it is a duty nonetheless, and one these idiotic sycophants couldn't perform if they were drawn a moving picture.

This organization could have used more Ravenclaws. Perhaps, in my younger days, I should have recruited the one standing next to me. Now, it is a challenge to revive myself for the task.

Idiot-Gryffindor-Nobody-Snatcher #44 or some such yells something crude in my direction.

He whistles. "Oi, Malfoy! 'Bout time ye got yerself a bloody shag session! Give 'er 'ell mate!"

Swine. The lot of them. Roguish, intolerable, despicable excuses for fire kindling. If I held any real power on this estate, I'd slay them all broad-sweep and the peacocks would feast spectacularly.

She speaks.

"Oh no, you're mistaken. I'm the leverage."

The idiot looks confused. It must be the communication charm. Only I can hear her, and her lips appear to be standing still as she stops and stares at him.

I would laugh if I remembered how.

"Lovegood. Come." I command. "No use attempting to lecture wild hogs. Their only practical use is wand fodder." I speak the truth, loud enough for the idiot to hear.

As much as I wish to not communicate with my dearest sire, my father may indeed need to hear about this. I will not be spoken to in such plebian regard on my own territory.

We continue walking. I remind her of the communication charm. She nods.

xoXOXox

I'd offer a heating charm, but since I've no wand at the handy and wouldn't want him to think I am pandering, being the docile prisoner and whatnot, I attempt a conversation.

"You look dead."

That must have startled him. We stop marching.

He turns to me, ice grey orbs freezing straight through my defences.

"Perhaps I am." he says in the same finite tone.

My turn to be startled.

"Please don't be." I reply.

He doesn't respond, except to squeeze me impossibly closer to his breathless lungs.

We must be approaching these "quarters" he spoke of, as Narcissa Malfoy stands looming in the distance.


	3. A Fearful Trill of Things Unknown

"You look dead."

Honesty. It's a shocking feeling, truly. Not one I get in daily interactions. I'm initially unsure of how to respond.

_Brilliant, beautiful, insane. At least presumedly. _I remind myself. Easy enough to repeat, and I find quite simple to play along with. Crazy is as crazy does, and if the life I live hasn't prepared me for this, it is an impossible feat.

I chance a glimpse into her wide irises and catch myself before I dive headfirst, drowning in them - in her.

"Maybe I am." I tell her stoically.

These words ring with more reality than I dared believe they could at my mere age. Ironic, that the truth can sound so foreign to my own ears as to be mistaken for mental incapacity. I can see how this lifestyle choice could be alluring.

"Please don't be." She remarks, as freely as if she were asking me to pass the salt.

Her response is so effortless, it was nearly automatic. As if begging others to live is a skill she's well-rehearsed in. She has every conceivable reason to lie to me. To flatter and appease; pull every foul tactic to ensure my good graces. In her eyes, I'm one of them. The haunting menace in an evil mask, appearing under the guise of night to spirit away young girls and slay innocent victims. I'm part of the "we" who leaves skulls in our wake.

I am what nightmares are made of.

If this is manipulation, she is playing on a higher level than I've achieved. Being reared my entire life in a den of snakes, I can confidently say this doesn't feel like traditional swindlery. Then again, what is traditional about Lovegood? Taking into account she may be leagues superior in intellect, I cannot be too cautious with my generosity.

But gods I don't want to be.

What I want is to genuinely believe in something - in someone. I yearn to say with full confidence

"Yes, yes I'll do that for you, Lovegood, if you'll do the same for me. Let's both try not being dead, at least for a time, yeah?"

Alas, I can't fool myself anymore. Longing pierces through me.

We continue walking. I see my mother, prompt per usual, standing at the threshold.

"Mother." I greet. Just saying the word melts the tension in my shoulders, and I feel my grip relax on Lovegood's arm.

"Draco." she returns, standing on tiptoe to place a kiss on my cheek. I tower above her, she keeps me tethered to the ground. This is our dance. A beautiful, heartbreaking step.

"Ms Lovegood." Mother greets. My charge nods her head.

Mother doesn't question my choice to keep the girl imprisoned in my personal quarters. She knows this is where I exist. Only she knows where I roam when not being summoned.

I need my non-wand hand, so I let loose the girl for a brief moment. Although she stands stock-still in the same position, her absence is palpable.

Blood wards have coated the entrance to my quarters since our unwelcome house guests so rudely invited themselves to occupy my residence. The first thirty or so times I parted the wards, my palm healed well enough. Apparently, splitting one's flesh repeatedly has residual effects after some time. After fifty, there was a scar. At seventy-five, my nerves started to tingle. This is event number one hundred and twenty-three, and I can no longer cut my palm, for all feeling but fire has abandoned it.

So I find alternatives.

I know better than to let blood from my wrist in front of my mother. I can't stand to see her cry. The one unbroken person I have must remain so. I will not be the straw to crush her countenance.

So being, I take out my folding blade and cut the top of my hand. The veins there still hold fast, unlike their unwilling counterparts in my fingers.

My blood isn't red anymore. Not truly. It's the colour of dark, rich wine - the type of wine that used to leave emboldened guests tipping over and vomiting on my mother's imported carpets at our celebrations. It's thick and gelatinous, congealing even as I endeavour to extract it, as if it's begging me to allow it to remain at peace in its cosy veins.

Fortunately, I've become more than immune to pleas for mercy.

Finally, I coax the fluid out of my hand to smear over the doorpost. The wards welcome me home.

Mother waves her wand to heal my wound as we flow through the threshold. I'm never so grateful for her prowess. Her healings take better than mine ever could.

Lovegood touches my hand, so softly a man with more fortitude would miss it.

xoXOXox

"Malfoy, I'd like to be careful how I say this, but being careful with my words is new to me, so I'll likely bugger it up."

I'm cautious with offering advice to my captor, not knowing how volatile he might be in such a situation. Even so, the situation is insane in the highest degree, and such, I won't allow myself to cower.

"Get on with it." his voice is dry. Bland like stale bread. He doesn't seem upset, so I continue.

"Unless you need a lot of blood to unlock the wards, there's a much easier way to do it."

I take his hand palm up. The scars there are hideous. Tiny marks, two to three marring each bloodless appendage. A long gash of silver coats the centre, as if it had been poured onto him to replace the lines there. I imagine he must spend quite a bit of time in his room, or other places only Malfoys dare to tread.

He's listening; I can feel it. I go on.

"Have you ever heard of a needle, Malfoy?"

"For sewing? I believe the house-elves use them."

"No, not those," I reply. I use my finger to illustrate, pricking his hand with my nail. "A small tube with a pointy end that can suck the blood out. I'm sure you could make one. It would hurt a lot less. You could use a lot less, and from different spots, if you like."

He nods appreciatively.

"I'll look into it." he concludes. I lay his hand down on his robes.

Narcissa is much smaller than I remember her to be, but her aura is enormous. It is a plethora of pinks and corals, reds and blushes. All love and thanksgiving. It reminds me of the rose gardens outside the manor walls. Perhaps she commissioned them.

She sets to waving her wand to restructure the wards. I watch attentively as she constructs my new cage.

xoXOXox

It is said the wards of Malfoy Manor are stronger than those surrounding the Ministry. I believe it whole-heartedly. Some have been in place since our earliest ancestor, a contemporary of Merlin himself. The most recent ones, the ones that have been constructed during my lifetime, have mainly been woven by my mother.

Not to be mistaken, my father is an excellent ward-smith in his own right. He intricately laid the security around the vaults, pantries, and ironically, drawing-room. I watched him do it as I toddled about, adoring the man who stood tall to protect our family.

But my mother, my mother has no equal in this arena. Not even Aunt Bella can contend with her.

I don't want to think about that vile witch, so I shove my recollection of her heartily into my Occluding room and slam the door with ferocity.

My mother and I warded my entire quarters a few months back, and the endeavour we are now undertaking sends unwilling remembrances reeling to the front of my blessed mindscape. More unbidden reminders to stuff my Occluding space to the brim with. It's becoming quite incommodious in there, and I'm deeply afraid one day the unsettling memories will all burst forth, running slipshod over my divine sensibilities while conquering my life as their own.

As my mother works her magic, I step out to the balcony for a bit of air. Mother's rose gardens sit directly below my quarters, albeit a few flights down. When the wind catches just right, I can inhale the sweet fragrance and remember the summers we spent there.

The ward lining my balcony comes in from the edge a bit. It's not constructed of Malfoy blood, but Black.

My mother came here to see about me a few months back, following the headmaster's demise.

She caught me peering over the railing, staring longingly at the ground.

She politely reminded me it would take a seven-floor jump to kill a muggle, much less a wizard, and as we are three floors from the earth, I would only end as an embarrassing wreck of shattered limbs that she would have to knit back together.

I remarked that the Astronomy tower was at least 30 floors up on a low day.

She held me as I cried into her silken gown.

No, not cried; sobbed. The kind of woebegone mournful wretching that turns my face red and causes water to come pouring from my nose. Sobbing that wrenches animalistic sounds straight from my gut and causes my ribs to quake in their cage.

The same lamenting circumstance caused my mother to slap my father with all her might clear across his preening angel face. The echoes of the resounding hit are etched eternally into the walls of the Manor. The reverberations from them will be felt for as long as I shall exist, and as long as this ward stands in place.

Mother appears before me now.

"It is finished."

xoXOXox

"Come." she requests to Draco.

I've always found it quite entertaining to find life's little duplicities. Those who surround me truly are fortunate that I am easily amused rather than quick to enrage. I know, objectively, I have every right to be outright violent towards my captors. Truly, I understand. I doubt any rational witch or wizard would fault me for killing them wholesale for the atrocities they have committed. But violence has never suited me. I don't enjoy it, and so I don't.

I try not to do anything I don't enjoy so much as I can help it, and so not being the vengeful sort, I don't take vengeance. I educate. I entertain. I enjoy.

Back to the duplicities -

He may come, but I may not. He may go, while I am commanded to stay until released. Narcissa can speak to me, but I'm forced to nod like I've taken a vow of silence. Which, for the record, I have not.

I have a bit of a secret, however.

What a person can do, and what they cannot, not what they may and may not, are the only true limitations.

The may nots only get irritatingly in the way.

So yes, while I am bound here, used as a bargaining coin to force my father to bend his morals to the fickle wishes of a mad-man (mad-snake-man?) and company, I will find my cans. Cans are everywhere if you pay attention.

xoXOXox

One facet of this unfortunate arrangement I hadn't fully considered was the lack of my personal privacy that will be suddenly thrust upon me.

Being that my parents saw it fit to produce no siblings, (since I am practising honesty for my role as hostage keeper, I shall admit in the confines of my mind that one Malfoy scion should have been plenty to appease the pair of them) I have always slept alone in my quarters.

Of course, I roomed with six boys during school for several years, how different could it be to take housing with a female?

Which reminds me, I must ask my mother's advice. I cast a muffliato.

"Mother, what shall I do when she takes ablutions?" I gesture to my charge. "Godfather requires I constantly observe her. How shall I sleep?"

"For sleeping," she replies, in her elegant matter-of-fact tone "I've seen to it that your bed is warded specifically."

She floats a feathered quill close to the canopy surrounding the posters. It catches flame and turns to ash in an instant. Brilliant.

"If she has the audacity to attempt to harm you." Mother reaffirms. "Once you fall asleep, an identical ward shall lock around her, so she cannot escape."

Why didn't the gods-damned guards think of that? My ire is palpable. My mother takes note. She knows this development could have avoided the whole situation! If Mother didn't mention it, I infer I should not either. I remain silent.

"For bathing and such," she continues, ignoring my festering anger "surely it would raise questions. Summon me daily. I'll make myself available to be with her and provide an explanation for you to Severus. There's been a bit of a learning curve during this particular instance of negotiation on his part."

My mother's eyes widen a bit to imply there is more to this story she is not telling. The Dark Lord has us afraid to even mutter our truth underneath the protection of a silencing charm. The situation is abhorrent, but we communicate what we can when we have the opportunity nonetheless.

"Thank you, Mother." I say with every drop of conviction I have left in my bones. I throw my arms around her tiny shoulders.

'_I couldn't do this without you.' _remains unspoken, but understood between us.

"You're always welcome, dear." she holds me tightly.

'_I'll be with you until my dying breath.' _her embrace implies.

"I love you, Mother." I tell her softly.

'_Please be alive come December. Please stay with me.' _is ingrained in every sound.

"I love you too, Draco. More than all the stars in all the skies." She repeats the soothing consolation from my childhood.

'_I'll never forgive myself for letting your father do this to us. I can never be sorry enough.' _is what she means by it.

I squeeze my mother one last time, breathing in her rose perfume, taking in the shine of her hair. Every time I see her I recapture her features in the trenches of my memory. I want them to be strong should she perish abruptly.

She turns to part, acknowledging the girl with a wave. Lovegood nods in return.

As the door shuts and the wards seal closed, we embark into the unknown to settle into our confines together.

xoXOXox

Draco calls his room his "quarters". How sophisticatedly Pureblood of him.

It's certainly much nicer than the dungeons or drawing-room.

He has a large four-poster bed with shiny deep-blue curtains drawn around it. The wards apparently incinerate anything that comes near to it. Makes me wonder if the shiny curtains might be flammable, and if I should mention it.

There's a large writing desk with implements in a corner. There doesn't appear to be anything sharp there, but I would assume there has to be some tool to break open scrolls with. I wonder if the drawers are locked.

The floors are dark wood, and a massive window takes up an entire wall leading to the balcony. The view is beautiful, overlooking the well-kept grounds.

It's not as beautiful as the view from my room at home.

I wonder how dad is doing with the new orders? I trust him to do what he should, whatever that may be. In the meantime, I know he will trust me to do what I should as well. Which I will, of course.

Back to the room -

It's incredibly quiet, save for Malfoy pacing about and moving things around. His wardrobe is left open, and I'm thoroughly impressed with how everything is neat, not tousled about as I would assume of a boy. House-elves, I suppose.

This kid needs some colour in his life. He owns way too many black things. If I had my wand, he would own far more yellow and green. I think they would suit him better.

Narcissa wasn't playing around when she constructed the wards. There are no sizeable gaps, no loose threading between them. She must really want Draco to stay in here. Well, me too I suppose, but I was definitely an afterthought.

She told me that when Draco sleeps, I'll be locked into a ward wherever I happen to be. I asked her if I would be bound like I was in the dungeons, and the face she made was priceless.

She scrunched her little nose up and said "Good Circe, of course not!" as if that was something I should have assumed. It's very entertaining to see a woman of her stature curse. I like her.

She said I'll have space within the ward to roll around in, which is good, because my body will make me sleep eventually, and I tend to sleep quite rough when exhausted.

Speaking of sleep, Draco has called one of his elves to bring me a bed. This is an interesting development. She comes back with a team of elves to set a giant mattress into a huge frame. I sincerely hope the wards are that large, or I might burn to death. Not quite the end I have in mind for myself.

I chance Draco's reaction to grab a quill and parchment from his desk and scribble "thank you" to the team of elves before they can apparate off. Manners go a long way in life, and I truly am grateful. The head elf, Mimsy, looks confused. Perhaps she can't read. I tried.

Draco looks confused as well, but I know he can read. He made some of the highest marks in his year. Oh! I know what it is.

"Thank you as well." I tell him.

I really wasn't expecting such hospitality after having been stuffed in a damp cell with dirty-aura types keeping me in chains. I suppose being leverage and useful and such has its perks. I shall endeavour not to take them for granted.

He rolls his eyes at me and slumps down on a settee by the window.

"Let's talk about this needle of yours, Lovegood."

xoXOXox

I regret to admit the girl has piqued my interest. Her modus operandi appears to be one of usefulness and acquiescence, so I shall respond to her in kind. If questioned, it will sound brilliant of me that I have created rapport with the hostage. Perhaps a slap on the back from Godfather will get them to leave me in peace for a time.

Truthfully, all I want at this moment is for my magic-forsaken hand to work properly.

...and perhaps I don't enjoy torture and needless unpleasantries.

More to come on that bit.

At present, she sits on my lounge chair, appearing for all intents comfortable and at ease. She seems to have taken spectacularly well to our new living arrangements. Annoyingly so. She pulls out the sheet of parchment and quill she has brazenly stolen from my desk, returns to said desk, and begins illustrating. This witch will drive me mad yet; I know it. As fervently as I pride myself on my intelligence and wit, I'm beginning to consider whether madness may suit me even better.

'_Oh, that's just Malfoy. Do excuse him. One too many drops from the broom, if you will.'_

Sounds like freedom if you ask me.

Her artistry is mesmerizing to watch. She gets entranced, explaining to me what each piece of the contraption does as she draws them, along with how they work together and how they can solve my problem.

This is why Ravenclaws and Slytherins get on with each other. Even during manipulation, they can't help but be incredibly explanatory. Utility is in their makeup, as much as cunning is in ours. They can't stand the illogicality that flows freely in our world and thus must correct it.

She fashions a slim little tube - metallic it seems from shading - with a point and a few drops dripping from the end. Attached to the top is a cylinder of some sort, and a… little round table of sorts stoppered in it. Fascinating.

She is still explaining.

"...this is the plunger, and it will create a vacuum when you pull it upwards. It's incredibly strange for the picture to not be moving, so a bit of imagination is necessarily involved," she rambles "but this will allow you to get the exact amount of blood you need for the wards and no more. All with a much smaller wound."

She puts down the parchment and looks at me. I tighten the edges of my Occlumency shields as she speaks.

"What do you think?"

"Seems plausible. Easy enough to transfigure." I drawl with much less awe than I am currently feeling.

A masterful artist has effectively solved a half-year long problem with an illustration of genius. I'm entitled to my dumbfoundedness at this development, which leads me to ask,

"Did you create this?"

xoXOXox

My drawing is pretty dull. It's so strange not having the tools at my disposal to animate it. I suppose it does look like a syringe, and I am trying to explain it in detail so he will get the premise. There really is no need for him to keep slicing himself like deli meat every time he goes to hide in his room.

"Did you create this?" he asks.

"Oh, no. I respond "It's a mug-" I stop mid-statement.

Circe. What have I said?

I smile because I can't help but be amused by my own stupidity when I put myself in danger. An idiotic tactic, but I can't help it. It's the way my mind works.

"No." I correct myself. "No, I did not create the original idea."

xoXOXox

She is smiling. Smiling. The cat who caught the cream, as it were.

"Lovegood," I imitate Father's scolding voice to the best of my ability. It's a mockery of the original, but I continue. "if this is a muggle artefact, that is pertinent information. I could be killed if I'm found using it, which means I won't be here to guard you." I sit as straight as my battered back will carry me, looking down my nose at her. It feels wrong, but I truly need her to understand the seriousness of what I am imparting. "I trust you understand the implications."

She nods.

"We could illusion it, then." she states. "It wouldn't be out of the realm of plausibility to think the Malfoy's have spells they don't share, would it?"

"No, of course not." I reply. "That just might work Lovegood."

"Good." she says, tangibly relieved. "If it's all the same to you, I'll give you instructions for the dimensions, and you can do the wand work. You'll need a piece of your hair to start."

xoXOXox

We work for hours getting the machinery just right. I transfigure my hair into the pointy bit and an empty inkwell into the cylinder. Then the table-stopper bit, the "plunger" I believe she called it, gets created from a broken candlestick.

When it's time to test, the creation works splendidly. It still hurts, but much less than the blade. A world and a half less than the blade. It's more like an insect bite. I'm thoroughly impressed.

"Lovegood, this is phenomenal." I tell her sincerely.

"Your blood shouldn't be that dark, or that thick, Malfoy." she responds. "I could give you a thorough explanation of why if you would like. I'm pretty good with healing spells. Maybe we could fix that too." she offers.

See what I mean? Ravenclaws.

We just "fixed" an inconvenience in my life. Let us conquer the world now, shall we?

No, we shan't. I'm thoroughly exhausted, and now, I will partake in my evening ritual.

It occurs to me that Lovegood has indeed been of significant assistance to me today, woeful as the circumstances surrounding said day have been. Perhaps she deserves a reward to ensure her loyalty?

I dip down to the compartment below my desk, careful to remain with my side turned to her, so I can clearly see her out of my periphery. One can never be too diligent to ensure one's back is not turned to a captive.

I pull out my tray of deviancy, my delightful assortment of concoctions to whisk me away into my dreams for a while.

"Lovegood, tell me," I ask, purposely draining all the malice from my intonation "do you fancy potions?"

xoXOXox


	4. To Sing

Malfoy and I have finished up our work for the evening, but we've still unfinished business to attend to.

He's giddy as a corpse can be, ruefully ignoring me while I tell him he will need to transfigure a new needle each time he opens the wards, which means plucking a fresh hair. I'll remind him again if we ever leave this room. Luckily for him, Malfoys don't seem to be predisposed to balding.

He leans under his desk to open a trapdoor.

Out of the trapdoor and into his arms rises a large assortment of glassware. For a moment I assume it to be a tea tray, but soon realize it isn't. Vials and vials of potions now sit on his desk. More than I've seen one person possess outside of a hospital or potion shop. I count 7 of them, along with a cauldron I take to be his mode of inhaling them. The glass on the vials is all black, so I can't tell what's in them.

"Lovegood, tell me, do you fancy potions?" he asks, his lifeless voice suddenly full of the swaggering arrogance I know him for.

"I don't care for them much." I tell him, because I don't.

Half of a smirk lines his blue lips. He's a gory caricature of the boy I went to school with, as if someone has drawn him in all the wrong colours and paid no attention to the details of his lines.

"I do." he returns, although I'd already gathered as much.

Alcohol, unlike potions, gives me the right amount of warm fuzziness to be pleasant. I tell him this so he won't be lonely in his inebriation. The easiness and consideration of it all is probably our minds trying to hang on to the shreds of our civility, but if I squint my eyes a bit, it almost looks like amicable; nearly like friendship.

He unstoppers the first vial and smells it before handing it to me. To be cautious, I wave my hand over it.

It's a thick purple goo with a beautiful smell of fresh lilacs and warmed lavender. Dreamless Sleep. Harry has quite a reliance on this one. I've offered to brew him a less harmful version, but it isn't quite as dreamless, so he has declined every time.

Malfoy takes the vial to put the stopper back in.

"This is for later." he says, looking down to reach for another.

"First, my favourite," he tells me with a bit more wind in his sails, through a ghost of his former handsome smile.

He opens another, allowing me to smell again. This one is opaque white inside the black container, with a strong herbal tinge to it. Pain potion.

Now it makes sense.

I let him continue uncorking all of them before I tell him what I've discovered. I want to know what is in each bottle, and he seems quite hospitable with sharing his vices.

As he talks, mostly to himself I presume, I learn he has a giant store of dittany "for the cuts"; an infusion of dragon fire ash for "patrols", whatever that means; pixie dust in gelatin - which he calls "candy" - "is for fun" he says; premium vodka "to relax"; a tiny bottle of Nymph's tears that he doesn't talk about, and I don't ask; and finally, out of his pocket, he fetches the last bottle of a clear, minty substance - Draught of Living Death.

xoXOXox

"This one is only for the worst nights, but can also be used in emergencies."

I've no idea why I'm telling her all of this. Perhaps I lament Theo's absence and want to replace his presence with hers. It's unfortunately been a lifetime since I've had a companion to partake with, and there is something transcendently settling to conversing with another human during the descent. So begins my ritual with a spring of vibrancy I haven't felt in gods know when. If questioned for any reason, I can always frame our encounters as a way to test her, to gain her trust, to ascertain whether she will attempt something brash - whichever tactics sound plausible to meet the organization's goals at the time. Well played, Malfoy.

I recognize I may be enjoying this decline into insanity.

At any rate, she says she'll join me while I indulge in my desecrations. Brilliant. I pour her two fingers and offer her juice because even in the throes of debasement a Malfoy is an excellent host. She declines the add-ins, saying she prefers to feel the warmth of it. I wouldn't know the feeling, but suit yourself Lovegood, cheers to it going down smoothly.

I open another bottle and swallow a mouthful of pain elixir. All the tightness, the burning cold, the little aches and pains begin to melt until they almost disappear. Then comes the Dreamless. One drop on my tongue to chase away reptilian abominations and shredded corpses of people I used to love.

Until she manages to crush my spirits with a sobering interjection of her blatant brand of nonchalance.

"Malfoy," she asks more than says "mixing Dreamless Sleep with pain potions ruins the circulation."

Thank you, Lovegood, for impeding upon the modicum of joy I've managed to syphon. I have suspected as much, but never cared enough to look into the matter. What consequence is it if I die in stages or all at once? At least I have a say in my demise this way.

"Does it?" I ask flatly, careful to keep only boredom in my tone.

She refrains almost chipperly, with widened eyes and a nodding head

"Yes. As a matter of fact, it can kill you." as if I should find my imminent demise to be the most interesting development. I suppose it would be a celebration for the two of us.

At my silence, she continues, nonplussed -

"You've been inhaling the Draught of Living Death." she correctly ascertains.

It cools all the places where I'm burning alive, numbs everywhere I feel too much. Only a drop or two sets me into the blissful tranquillity where I feel nothing at all. A sweet little morsel of non-existence when the worst of life kills the remnants of my soul.

I started taking it after practising my Avadas. That's been some time ago. Now, I can fire them in my sleep. Recently I indulge when Aunt Bella gets involved with tutoring the lesser mongrels. The screaming and cackling… Dreamless isn't enough to take it away.

When I have to watch the girl I loved devoured by wolves and tossed onto my lawn like spoiled meat again and again in my conscious, that's when I breathe in a full vial. On those nights my veins are frozen rivers, my muscles turn to glaciers and the tears freeze solid before they can fall down my cheeks.

"Yes?" I reply, coaxing her forward.

"Does it ever feel like your airways are turning to ice; like it's freezing you from the inside out?"

I may never acclimate to her odd phrasing, but she is accurate nonetheless.

"Yes, exactly. What is your point?" I respond.

The girl stops smiling. She looks into my eyes, but I sense she is not seeing me. Not the person in front of her at least. What she is seeing I know in my soul I may never comprehend.

"That's said to be hard to reverse, Malfoy." she tells me, and I can hear the concern in her voice. "It's possible I believe, but I've never done it to be sure."

Despite my growing acceptance of my mortality, the unintended side effects of my methods for sleeping do have some rather inconvenient consequences. I can no longer feel my feet or my face, and my legs shimmer with pin-pricks when I stand. Not the worst of all maladies to be sure, but enough of a nuisance that I have on occasion considered threatening or bribing the healer on grounds to fix this predicament. The embarrassment is what keeps me from it. I've never been proficient at oblivation, and couldn't stomach the repercussions if word got around I've been inhaling DOLD to keep from screaming, to keep from devolving.

I can picture it now_,_ whispers in the corridor from the mutts deigning to curry favour in my stead:

_'Malfoy is weak like his father. No bollocks on that one.'_

Once more disgraced and reviled, said father will raid my quarters to clean out my stores. Then I'd truly come unhinged.

No, I can't go to a healer.

"_Could_ you do it?" I ask, because maybe the lunatic artist is far enough outside the scrutiny of reality she can imagine a solution.

"I can try." she says, and it's a beautiful sound. The song of a bird in a cage.

Although I can feel fatigue surround me, I know I should seize this opportunity while it presents itself. Like it or not, the girl may not be alive come morning. Neither of us hold much sway in the matter. As such, I grant her permission to experiment. As previously mentioned, I dabble in such games every night. This could hardly be worse than my usual, and I expect it to be predictably uneventful.

"Please do." I say, and she smiles back at me as if she's been waiting an eternity to hear those words. Whether it's due to her lust for my blood or desire to heal me, I can't quite bring myself to care, so I lie to myself and call it the latter.

In this moment, in the darkest recesses of my reckless occluding room, I could kiss her with ferocity, because the lies I tell myself serenade that she wishes to see me whole, more than I ever could for myself.

Upon recognition of this need, I lament that I must first be able to feel my lips.

xoXOXox

Narcissa comes to sit with me while he takes a hot bath. The fuzzy grey flannels and long white shirt he comes out in probably cost more than my life is worth, but they do no favours for his morbid complexion. As his robes and wares float away into the wardrobe it's as if the darkness follows them in, and he is once again just a boy. A schoolmate, an acquaintance.

In the past hour or so, I have learned he has nearly killed himself by mixing potions.

Malfoy has taken "pick your poison" to an entirely new level, not that I blame him.

At second thought, I do blame him a tiny bit for not recognizing his sickness sooner, but I can see why he wouldn't be able to pay attention to health problems in this situation. I'm aware enough of my tendency to overestimate others' ability to notice things I find obvious. I learned long ago not everyone sees the same way as me.

He has asked me to try to cure his issue, even though I tell him I'm not sure if I can. I remind myself this is good news as I put away all of the Slytherineries he might be trying on me to focus on doing this task well. He is dying, and I may be able to save him. If he has ulterior motivations, that's his problem, not mine.

At my request, he calls his elf to bring him two vials of blood replenisher and one of frostbite cure. I had an inkling they would have some basic supplies around here. Being nefarious does come with an injury every so often after all.

I have him drink the blood replinisher and inhale frostbite cure in his mother's presence, in case something goes wrong. It would be terribly unpleasant to accidentally kill him while I'm trying to save him, and not even have a wand for a rennervate.

I'm afraid she is going to hex me silly when he starts coughing, but she doesn't. She also doesn't faint when he starts retching chunks of ice.

She's fine. He's fine. I'm fine too, but also thoroughly confused.

I am missing how I could possibly be important enough to the Death Eaters to receive this kind of treatment. If I had a hostage, the last thing I would think of is letting them this close to me and a tray full of potions. There are a myriad of ways I could kill him with the pain potion alone. Supposedly they are the master strategists. Slytherins. Strange lot they are.

Curious that they perceive I need to be so observed when I am locked inside layers on layers of wards. I can't apparate. What am I going to do, tunnel out with a spoon? Perhaps they are afraid I will steal, or run, or find some way to communicate with Harry and the DA. Which I will.

It's a refreshing, if inconvenient, change of pace to not be underestimated.

xoXOXox

As I return from the lavatory and set away my wares for the day, I notice my adders have been silent since arriving in my quarters. As I am confident in my wandwork, I must infer the girl truly bodes me no ill wishes. This is a fascinating development, and one I must admit I don't fully understand. Nonetheless, I am reassured enough to continue this conquest.

Lovegood says I should vaporize the frostbite potion. I do, and the very first breath is sublime torture.

Although I think of the end while going through the middle, the pain is inescapable. The heat is worse than the dragon fire ash ever is. It's pouring petrol straight into my chest and setting it alight. My ribs are being ripped apart. I'm sure at present the hostage girl has orchestrated my death in a spectacularly vindictive fashion. This is not the demise I would request, but the one I surely deserve for both my complacency and my pandering idiocy.

Shards of ice peel through my throat. I'm making a grotesque display of expelling them. My eyes are stinging and watering and the sounds are simply repulsive. The hostage is still staring - at me or through me, I can't be sure.

Mother doesn't flinch as my agony slowly comes to an end.

When the worst of it is over, I dare to gaze down at my hands. The beds of my nails are blushed pink as the lifeblood fills them once more. They come to life and I feel every rip, every laceration I have impinged upon myself smart anew, a brand new gouge to remind me of the life I have nearly abandoned. I bite my lip, and sensation overtakes me. I make it bleed, only to see if it will. Mother shakes her head in exasperation and heals the cut. Briskly I take myself to my vanity. I still present as a street urchin with my thinning musculature and unkempt beard, but more so a street urchin who hasn't perished in the frost.

I'm still alive.

xoXOXox

Narcissa stands to follow Draco to his mirror. As her blazing aura surrounds him, I know I've done the best I could.

She eyes me, and I can see the fire inside her spark brand new. Hope, it must be.

"Your work is inscrutable, young witch." She tells me. "Your potential is stunning. The Dark Lord will be pleased to have such an adept healer amongst us."

What I hear her saying is "Thank you for saving my son." so I nod.

She turns to leave and I see her and Draco embrace once again. If I'm not mistaken, I hear muttered "I love yous" and wishes for a sound night of rest.

But again, I already knew as much.

xoXOXox

Being able to feel my tongue is rapturous. I hadn't taken time to care how the slippery appendage floated around in my mouth before, and suddenly I have the overwhelming urge to taste something. I procure a green apple from the fruit basket on my desk. As my teeth cut the skin and the sourness bursts forth, the saliva filling my mouth is glorious, almost painful in the pleasure of it.

The girl chuckles underneath her hand, and I realize with a touch of chagrin that I indeed may have moaned aloud during this euphorious endeavour.

This is what levels me.

I refuse to be ashamed at the indulgent splendour of it all, and so shoot her my most piss inducing glare. She laughs outright, gripping her ribs as she mocks me with her melody. I could ostensibly hex her for the impertinence, but I don't, because I know her to be useful. Incredibly so. I could never bear to weaken such a fine instrument of my deliverance.

xoXOXox

I laugh until tears stream down my face. The joy doubles me over as I recognize the lunacy and idiocy all surrounding this encounter with Draco, Heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy.

He says he indulges in a tray full of potions nightly, laid in his fine room and his shiny curtains and silk sheets, yet the simple taste of an apple is what makes him groan in pleasure.

His aura is revived a bit, the same sparkling shade of green as the apple.

What an interesting juxtaposition this boy is.

xoXOXox

I sit at my desk, penning a letter to my father about the uncouth and unnamed Snatcher who dared to affront me on my own property. I keep the missive short and to the point, as I'm positively frothing to get back to my ritual.

I'm sure the Dreamless has worn off by the sheer amount of vibrancy I'm feeling at present, and for the time being, I can't say I give a damn. The pain potion as well has gone with the shards of ice so savagely expelled from my lungs if the burning in my limbs is any protestation of the matter.

I still can't be bothered to care.

I'll take the pain over again if it means I can feel the quill as I grip it, the grain of my desk that was cut from the ancient orchards on these very grounds. Every sting is worth twice it's toil for the smell of sandalwood incense, bluebell and citrus emanating from my unbothered charge.

I suspect I will also be able to taste my candy.

I set my missive off towards my father's study and return to my den of desecration, taking a square of the sparkling pink gelatin to melt languidly in my newly warmed mouth. It tastes of new spring and sweet nothings as I fill the girl's glass full to the brim with Theo's father's imported vodka. He won't be needing it where he is.

"Cheers, Lovegood." I bid the girl as we part ways.

"Sleep sweetly." she replies, the infuriating grin back in place on her now rosy face.

Oh, I shall.

As I lay my head on the pillow, hallucinations of a wood nymph dancing through a sandalwood forest with golden curls bouncing and sparkling blue eyes staring through my soul lull me soundly into unconsciousness on a bed of citron and bluebells.

xoXOXox


	5. On a Nightmare Scream

_AN: The views expressed by the characters in this chapter do not necessarily reflect the views of the author. Please, give the characters time to grow, and know if you want to yell in the reviews, I'm yelling with you._

_Vine_

As Draco draws the curtains around his bed, I fall into the one he's given me to sleep in. I get as close to the centre as I can in hopes the wards will reach the edges of the frame without catching fire. As I hear him start to snore, a crackling orange light cages me in. There is plenty of room on all sides. Narcissa thought this through completely.

I stare at the glittering cage as it sparkles, and let my mind consider all of my options. I wonder how far the containment charm reaches? Will the wards activate if Draco and I are separated? What if I'm off the Malfoy grounds?

I come up with more questions than answers as usual when solving a problem.

I wonder if their wands are tracked? I'll assume they are, for caution's sake. Even if I could get a wand, apparition is useless. I'm not even sure the Malfoys can apparate within their own house since Draco seems keen on walking place to place. I haven't seen any charmed mirrors so far, although I'm sure one has to be present somewhere in the Manor. Where the owls go in and out is unknown at this time, and they are probably tracked in some way too. Draco sent a letter earlier, but since it folded itself and zoomed off, I assume it was going somewhere nearby. I wonder how high the wards go? If I could steal a broom and fly straight up, as high as it will go, eventually I would have to surpass them to fly over, unless they cap the building. This is something I need to find out. What I need is to be able to explore, to find somewhere that someone missed a step in securing this place. On an estate so large, I would think there would be a few secret passageways and escape routes somewhere. Or perhaps an opening of the gates would do if I had a way to get to the gates to begin with. There's an idea.

I try not to dabble too long on more implausible approaches. Taking Draco's wand, for example. Given our limited interactions, it would be a gamble whether or not his wand would cooperate with my magic. Even if it did, I doubt there will be a time he will be distracted and separated from his wand long enough for me to use it. We have both done our fair share of duelling, but the fact remains he is taller and stronger than me, so taking it outright would be a stretch. Not to mention I would much rather work with him than against him if the opportunity presents itself. That is, if he is willing.

Next step, possible allies.

I'm still holding out hope for Professor Snape if I ever get to see him again. He has to know more than he is letting on to have charmed my mouth shut while I'm here. He knew I would say something to infuriate someone, because I always do. Either keeping me quiet keeps me safe or he didn't want me speaking to someone who could get me out of here. I can't say for certain. The elves can't understand me, so it would present quite a challenge to get them to cooperate in my escape. Narcissa seems to be taken with me and is certainly clever, but it's unknown how much loyalty she has for the Dark Lord. If I want Narcissa's help, it will have to go through Draco.

Draco…

He didn't even say thank you to me for saving his life. Unless you include trying to get me sloshed before bed a show of gratitude. Maybe it was. He seems to trust me enough to listen to me. That's a start. I'll try to keep it this way. It's a pity I know so little of the boy I went to school with for so many years. I don't know his favourite colour, or what he eats for breakfast.

What I do know, however: he is good for a show.

He parades around high and mighty, telling everyone within earshot how superior he is because of his breeding and wealth. His powerful father, who will wreak havoc on anyone who dares to insult him. His brand new some-such the rest of us could never afford. He has to keep saying it over and over to convince himself. It's telling of how little he believes his own mouth.

Weak beliefs turn easily to no beliefs given the right circumstances. Or when the right circumstances are created.

xoXOXox

As sleep begins to take hold of me, the hallucinations fade away to dreams, as I expected without the aid of Dreamless.

The bed of bluebells I lay in has fashioned itself into a container of sorts. A coffin, I conclude.

The wood nymph comes closer, singing me back to life with her sweet melody.

The ground opens, welcoming me into the darkness of the earth.

"Come with me." I implore to the nymph. I reach to grasp her thin fingers guiding her with me into the awaiting unknown.

As we lock eyes, the terror unfolds.

Her long blonde curls retreat into her skull, darkening and straightening until they are left in a mahogany waterfall cascading over her shoulders. Her delicate body reshapes itself into hard muscle all over. I try to release her hand, but she grips me firmly, crushing my knuckles. Her face changes form, dark chocolate eyes spread wide as saucers in primal fear. A scream peels from Pansy's throat as we fall into the darkness.

"Draco! DRACO!"

The high pitched wails shatter me, but still, she holds fast.

"DRACO!" she begs, even as her mouth melts into her face.

I watch as her flesh is shredded apart again and again.

I open my mouth in a desperate plea for help, but no sounds come forth. No escape presents itself. My body betrays me, locking in place as I try to rush to her rescue. The weight of her corpse falls with me into the abyss.

I sit up straight in a cold sweat, eyes blasting open, throat raw from screaming.

xoXOXox

Just as I doze off, I hear a gut-wrenching shriek coming from the bed across the room.

"Help! Pansy! NOO! HELP!"

Has someone attacked Draco in his sleep?

I jump out of bed, reaching for the wand I no longer possess.

"Malfoy!" I yell across the room.

I run straight at the wards just as they sizzle out of existence.

The curtain flies open, and he appears alone.

He jumps at the sight of me. Must have forgotten I was here. Typical.

His chest is heaving and I can see his hair matted with sweat in the dim light. He returns to his desk and leans down to open his compartment. He still hasn't answered me. Perhaps he sleepwalks? I chance to approach him.

"Malfoy," I try again. "Are you okay Malfoy? Can I help you with something?"

Eyes of a hungry wolf glare back at me, but I don't back away. Hungry wolves only need to be fed.

"No one can help me." he replies dramatically.

Of course, someone can help you, Malfoy. Someone always can, if they will is more the question.

"I will." I tell him as he begins pouring what I assume to be Draught of Living Death into the cauldron.

Just as he lights the incendio beneath it, I have an idea.

I grasp his sweating hand and he immediately tries to pull it away.

"I swear on my magic I won't hurt you tonight." I say before he can get out of my grasp. Our hands glow blue at the promise.

Almost instantly, I regret this decision as he effortlessly lifts me off the ground and into his arms to force my first kiss from my lips.

What have I done?

xoXOXox

It's all too much. It's too much for a person. Debilitating for a weakling such as myself.

I go to light the cauldron, hoping against hope the DOLD will take me away for eternity.

"Let me help you, Malfoy."

Fuck off, Lovegood.

The freezing, the burning, the carnage, it overtakes me. I have to make the delusions stop.

She grips my hand hard. I jerk back in reflex. Please don't let this be another night terror.

She extracts a vow. She won't hurt me tonight. Only tonight.

I know what will force them to cease.

Don't hurt me then. Swallow my pain. Taste it as I do. Bitter potions and sour apples and guilt. Cold jellied blood topped with shattered expectations.

Her lips are too sublime to have been in my dungeons. They are softer than Pansy's, more silken than Theo's. Delectable, delicate, finer than the richest balms in the most spectacular palaces. What is she hiding?

She pushes hard on my chest, and I beg into her mouth.

"Please… Help me. Please…"

xoXOXox

"This…" I push again on his chest. He's holding my legs tight to his hips, even as he bites my lips demanding entrance.

"..is not…" I dig my heels into his spine as I try to gain leverage, but he only holds me tighter.

"...the way.." He shoves his tongue into my mouth. I glare at him. His eyes are closed, and he's not listening

"..to help you…" He drops my legs, digging his hands into my hair.

"Dlay...Dlayco." is what comes out around his onslaught.

He pauses for a moment, taking both hands in my hair to look at me head-on.

"Help me." he begs breathlessly. The fears in his eyes are enough to soften the coldest of hearts.

"Please, make it go away."

xoXOXox

I've never had a witch fail to return my kiss.

I would have never suspected I'd be rejected by any witch in my year, much less the year below. My mother and father's contemporaries all see me fit to wed their daughters, or at least they did at one time.

That's not what she thinks of me now. I've thrusted her from sleep, defiled her body, broken my vow of assurance.

Reminding myself she cannot harm me, I let loose her hair as I drop to my knees.

I need a new Lord, for mine has forsaken me. O Moonlit Saviour, deliver me from the darkness.

"Lovegood, help me. Please."

xoXOXox

I sit cross-legged in front of Draco on the floor. He's coming unravelled at the seams. It's always preposterous how the mighty tend to be the ones in shambles, falling on their victims for support.

Not that Draco is much mightier than me at this point. I wonder how many of his superiors rely on him every day to do the nasty business of being subject to an evil tyrant?

How long have the Death Eaters been living here with him? Aside from his father, of course, who I assume has lived here his whole life.

"Draco," I say softly in an attempt to calm him. "Let's talk, ok?"

He takes my hand and follows me to my sleeping space. We sit on the edge of the bed as he tries to regain lucidity.

I assert myself as I prepare for whatever vile deeds may come. He's begged for my help. If he truly needs me, he'll listen.

"If you want to touch me, ask next time; but not right now." he nods silently before going completely out of sequence to his next thought. He trembles as he stares into the moonlight.

"They took her, Lovegood. They took her, and they devoured her. They devoured her, and there was nothing I could do, nothing I could do…"

He must be talking about Pansy Parkinson. I heard about that. She was eaten alive by Voldemort's werewolves. Barbarity at its most extreme.

I squeeze his hand.

"I'm so sorry, Draco. Nothing like that should ever happen. Never."

He continues.

"And Theo, Theo ran…" he's sweating again, murmuring out of his head.

As he swallows, I see the longing haunt him. I suspect it's the same foul wanting I feel every day.

"Harry ran." I somberly reply.

xoXOXox

As I sit in the moonlight peering into nothing, I'm taken back to a time after my birthday. All gifts had been opened, save one. Theo joined me in my quarters, as he did most nights. My ritual was not so elaborate back then.

"I'm surprised you haven't kicked me out, Malfoy." he said, tossing a snitch up and down to himself on my settee.

"Ha. Why should I? I'd be relegated to speaking aloud to myself to have stimulating conversation." I responded.

"Careful, Malfoy; you're going to end up in St. Mungos talking like that."

"Ha. Mustn't end there. I've heard the amenities are dreadful."

He snorted.

"If you ask me, the amenities here are just as horrid. You should at bare minimum have a bottle of Russo-Baltique and a witch on your cock."

I laughed out loud at his ignorance.

"Father prefers dark liquor." I said. "Abhorrent drinks taste like liquid glass on fire." I shook my head to relieve myself of the recollection of sips I would nick from the cellar as a boy. "As for the witch, I have ages of courting ahead of me." I distinctly remember groaning and rolling into my pillow, because the thought of sitting in my finery while making small talk with every eligible daughter of my parents' contemporaries was enough to make me want to Avada myself.

He laughed heartily, unabashed. He only displayed his enjoyment so openly when we were alone.

I heard metal swirling on a glass opening. Looking up, his outstretched arm held his father's finest spirits my direction.

"Take it." he said "A bit of mercy on your pitiful birthday you sulky git."

"Up your arse, Nott."

I took a swig from the bottle and tasted crystal clear sky.

A devilish grin crossed his face.

"Pansy fancies you."

Pansy was Nott's betrothed.

"I know." I replied, putting my occlumency shields back in place.

"Don't give me that occluding bollocks, Drake."

He could always see straight through me, even when my perception was clouded. He knew I'd loved her since I was a boy. My best friend in the world sold to my only confidant for a dowry and weak alliances. He saw my heart being ripped from my chest.

"And, Nott?" I snapped. "What's your point?"

He screwed the lid back on the bottle.

"Pity she isn't here," he replied, studying his nails with the same vile smirk. "I bet she'd be thrilled to lavish you in her particular gifts today."

My breath caught at the implication. He went on.

"Since she isn't available at the moment, I suppose I'll have to fulfil her wishes in her stead." he hummed, looking up from his nails with an unreadable mask over his sapphire blue eyes.

That's the thing with Nott, he's so ridiculous, one can never tell if he's being foolish or sincere.

Unless that one is Draco Malfoy.

"Are you serious?" I asked, giving him time to recant himself if he so chose.

"What do you think?" he asked, not granting me a millimetre of leverage.

I wet my lips as he stared through me, much like Lovegood stares through me now.

"Harry ran." she says

xoXOXox

"Draco, I think you're going into shock. Let's get you warm, ok?"

I wrap one of the many duvets around his shoulders as he shivers and sweats.

It's not working. In the dimness of the room, I can't tell if he's turning blue or not, but the shivering gets more and more violent. His teeth chatter in his skull. I can't very well call for help without my wand.

I stand in front of him, warring with myself. We are eye to eye as he sits, staring blankly into the dark. I take his face in my hands.

"Draco, I'm here to help you, ok? Lay back. Breathe."

The mountain of fluffy pillows implodes as he collapses into them.

Putting two fingers to his neck, I feel for a pulse. It's faint and quick, a scared rabbit running away from the horrors of this life.

A million thoughts sprint through my mind, but I don't have time to sort them out.

"Hold on for me, Draco. We're going to live tonight."

xoXOXox

Theo's hand is on my abdomen. It's smaller than I remember, lighter, more gentle.

It's not pinning me to the bed as I bite down my release as this memory usually plays out. No, instead it runs to and fro over my stomach; stops for a moment to feel my heartbeat. My back is warm, hot, scalding.

A woman's voice calls to me.

"Hold on for me, Draco."

xoXOXox

I hastily throw off the flouncy silk pyjama top Narcissa gave me and push his nightshirt up as far as I can get it underneath his arms. Rolling him on his side is effortless; he's light as a feather. I press myself to his back beneath the duvet, shoving my leg between his knees. The more we can touch, the better. He has to get warm.

Once we're situated I rub circles over his torso to soothe him. Slowly, up, down, pause to check his heartbeat, continue. I hold him closer, tighter, forcing my heart to beat life back into him. I stroke his hair and run my hand through the down on his chest.

Moments feel like an eternity as I breathe warm breath on his neck and shoulders. I sing to him. Songs about mornings and sunrises and all the things that cheer my heart.

The shivers slow to a halt as his heartbeat decreases. His breathing levels. The wards lock around us. He's alive, and asleep.

xoXOXox

Theo melts away, dissipating into mist, just as he did in reality.

In his absence, I'm cocooned in a warmth the likes I've never felt before. A divine being has me wrapped in her silver wings, her gentle arms guarding my fickle heart as she sings about sunrises, about the love between the moon and the sea.

"You are going to rise." she trills. It's the most beautiful serenade I've ever heard.

I call to her in my mind's eye as I drift from consciousness.

xoXOXox

_A/N: May Jimi Hendrix, honourable wizard, rest in peaceful bliss. The song at the end is Angel and it belongs to him._


	6. In the Orange Sun Rays

I awaken not to the comfortable darkness of my canopy, but the blinding white imported cotton of one of my mother's guest beds.

The light from the windows assaults my eyes, scalding them into subordinance so I may only feel and not see.

The softness of bare breasts pillows into my back. A thin pyjama'd leg with stocking feet lays haphazardly across my own. Her elbow is sharp in my lungs, keeping me locked in place against her.

I force my unwilling eyelids to comply in awakening, belatedly realising a cache of golden curls shrouds my face. They're matted in my lashes and caught in my mouth.

xoXOXox

I haven't slept a wink.

Every time I'd begin to drift away, Draco would flinch and whimper in his sleep. His muscles would jerk and spasm as he whined "no, no" over and over again into the darkness.

I had half a mind to wake him to give him his Dreamless, but thought better of it since it was already surely the wee hours of the morning.

I sang and I pleaded, reassured and caressed until my voice went dry and my eyelids would no longer hold themselves open.

Perhaps it would be better to let his demons run loose from his head, so they may leave space for his mind to rest.

Run they did - wild and rampant under the moon, all night and after the sun rose and hours after Mimsy brought morning tea. It must be half past noon by now, and I can't move my arms from holding him.

Finally, the wards begin to fade. Hoping all the fairy dust has metabolised so he won't hallucinate more, I cautiously welcome him to the day.

"Draco, it's me. I'm here with you."

xoXOXox

I move to untangle the girl's hair from my face. My saliva coats it, cold strings departing the corners of my lips as I remove the offending strands. This is the filthiest I can remember feeling in some time.

My body is on fire all over. Soreness of a lifetime ago plagues every muscle as I turn to face her.

Her arm doesn't move.

As I release myself from the conglomerate of fuzzy curls to reveal her face, I fight back a gasp. Her visage is fatigued and weary, her supple lips parched and burning red. The shimmer of her blue eyes has disintegrated to a faded pallor surrounded in a bloody sea of pink.

Gently, I tuck her into my chest. I can't bear to view her in such a shattered state knowing I'm the cause of her suffering. I slide my hips back, and her leg falls silent to the duvet. I tuck my knees underneath myself.

"I'm sorry Lovegood." I whisper into her hair. For what, I can't be sure yet.

"Call me Luna." she replies coldly "And you're welcome."

xoXOXox

"What am I welcome for?" He asks, and it's the most irritating thing.

I take a deep breath to calm myself. I'm sleepy. I'm hungry. I'm being held captive against my will. It's apparent - to me at least - that I'm not in the best state of mind to use my rational judgement.

Breathing in his scent does the trick to calm my nerves. He smells spicy and clean; masculine, but just a hint. I've no idea how he manages to smell so nice after sweating all night. It must be whatever fancy shampoo and soap he uses. The oil-based, more expensive kinds last longer than mine would, I suspect.

"Lovegood, answer me… please." He demands and begs in one swoop, because even broken and sweating and covered in drool he still wants to think I owe him an explanation. He has to know somewhere in his depths I don't owe him at all. His soft plea, I determine, is meant to convince me of such.

"Let's discuss it over tea?" I ask, because I'd rather not say anything that may end with my head on a skewer due to hunger.

"Accio wand" he drawls, and his wand appropriately floats to him. The ease with which he commands it vexes me all over again.

He floats a tray of lavender biscuits and hand-poured chocolates, fresh strawberries and hot Earl Grey to sit on the corner of the bed. Not a healthy morning meal to be sure, but one I think we both deserve after the night we endured together. It may not give us enough energy to last the day, but my mouth waters in anticipation nonetheless.

We say nothing for a while as the juicy strawberries burst in our mouths and I drain cup after cup of the warm beverage. Understanding that Malfoy isn't known for his patience and will be expecting an answer soon, I pop a chocolate into his mouth to keep it shut while I explain.

I recount the events from last night, starting when he first awakened.

xoXOXox

I sense the girl is thoroughly agitated. If mother taught me any applicable survival skill, it's not to toy with an irritable witch, especially after she has requested sustenance.

I summon our breakfast and all of my patience to await her answer. I'll get a more thorough explanation of my recent debauchery if I appease her.

As I watch her lips cover the bright red fruit, my carnality disobeys my orders to remain dormant. I reach for a pillow to cover myself, taking one of the berries in my mouth to quell a fragment of the yearning.

She relaxes into breakfast, seemingly oblivious to the fact that her piqued breasts blush as red as the fruit's flesh before me. Her golden halo twinkles unashamedly in the sunlight, giving her an air of untamability. How apropos.

I swallow the strawberry whole at the sight, and it hurts going down while my watering eyes protest my decision. She plucks a chocolate from the tea tray, pressing it to my mouth. I allow her to set it on my tongue, savouring the touch that is salty and sweet all at once as my lips linger on her.

I call to mind cold winters and mountain rains, brisk winds and January snow, but none of my visualisations are sufficient to stifle the pounding ache she has caused me

My hands begin to sweat anew, leaving greasy wet stains on the white sheets as she recounts my transgressions. Brilliant, Malfoy.

"You're welcome for me saving your life twice in one night." she accuses as I allow the smooth confection to melt on my tongue.

The bittersweet morsel floods my conscious as much as the memories. I kissed her. She reviled me. I begged for her, she comforted me. I tried to fly free of this world, she taught me to sing while ensnared.

She's cared for me more in one day than I have cared for anything, ever.

What does she want from me?

xoXOXox

The breakfast is delicious, but unsatisfying to sate my hunger. Hunger is an enemy I know well, so I beat it back with what remains of the lukewarm tea.

Draco's face tells no tales of what is going on in his mind, but his aura is a story of conflict.

It rages a spectacular demonstration, firing off a marvellous show of lights. All shades of green and red encompass him in swirls and sparks in the wind. He's on fire from the inside out.

Good. The boy lives.

His modesty is quite entertaining given his display the day prior. A message floats in, landing on the pillow in his lap.

As he opens the letter, his face falls, and he transforms once again into the stoic young soldier.

"Get dressed." he orders. "We are going to meet with my father."

xoXOXox

Mother has prepared the girl a wardrobe. This is the first I've heard of a hostage being held in such high regard. Why not murder her father outright if his announcements are so influential, which they have never been lauded to be? The secrecy surrounding the discretion of this regime is maddening.

Lovegood stands before me in a jumper and trousers. Not Malfoy quality. Plebian. As if she had been brought here in this very attire. It's an unsettling transformation from her usual garish wares. They colour her eyes a brewing storm, accenting the sunkenness beneath them. The darkest of grey fabrics positively scream for her to disappear into the shadows. The witch who held me against her bare flesh is gone, in her place a derogatory shade of her gentleness. Danger radiates from her, landing bitter on my tongue. For a moment, with her wild hair and visage of blankness, she distinctly resembles Aunt Bella.

I quickly cast a smoothing charm to tame her curls. Levitating a black robe towards my charge, I implore her to not garner father's wrath for our tardiness. I grasp her elbow as we begin our journey to Father's study.

xoXOXox

Lucius Malfoy is a terrible inconvenience. Every sense of those words bears his likeness.

His office is situated far into the centre of the Manor, and as expected, we walk to it.

I try cheering myself with the prospect of gathering more information to aid in my escape, but my heart won't let me. Good thing my heart is not in charge of my thinking.

Draco's boots click and his snakes hiss every time we pass another dirty aura cloaked in black trying to seem important.

The halls look depressingly similar. Every door is closed.

Bugger.

46 closed doors and we stop at an enormous entryway. At least this one is memorable. The Malfoy crest sneers at me from high above the moulding. Serpents and dragons on a bed of black arrows dare us to enter.

I generally pick "truth" when playing this game, but no one asked me which choice I'd prefer.

"Lovegood," Draco whispers in my ear, sending a cold shimmer down my spine. "Keep your wits about you."

Who is he instructing, me or himself?

Draco holds his head high as he marches in to greet his father. Lucius stands.

Merlin, he is shabby. One look at him and I can tell he's been living on alcohol and adrenaline. Slytherins, Malfoys in particular, generally care a great deal about the appearances they display. Draco even curled my hair before allowing me in his father's presence. He wasted his magic. He doesn't acknowledge me at all. I doubt Lord Malfoy would have noticed if I showed up in a bath towel. He doesn't even seem to notice his collar has gone slack and he's given up shaving.

Lucius's aura doesn't even glow, it smoulders like fire-ash holding on to the last bits of kindling. Black and grey, shards of embers here and there is what he's descended to. I had been somewhat expecting the pride and malice he's known for to choke me with their stench. I curiously note they have almost no fuel to burn anymore as fear and shame take their places to swallow him alive.

"Father." Draco says flatly with the shortest nod of his head.

xoXOXox

"My son." Father returns to me.

Oh, so I am his son today, am I? Not "an embarrassment to the Malfoy legacy" or a "disgrace upon the name of wizard".

Today I stand to be of use to him.

I summon a chair askance from the desk for Lovegood to situate herself in as I take a seat at Father's desk.

"Amarton has been discharged from his duties as of this morning."

Father has relieved the Snatcher of his neck for his disrespect.

Now aim higher, Father. Go for the one who keeps you in chains and has you blithering about in a drunken stupor. Take back what is ours, O Mighty Lord of the Manor.

"As he should be." I reply.

"Indeed." Father says through a sneer, throwing a silencing charm around us.

My adders lay dormant.

"I trust your assignment is going as planned?" he inquires.

"The girl is not dead, so I suppose it is." I bite back.

"Excellent." is the deadpan reply from my father's decaying corpse.

Silence.

"Although I lament I don't understand the importance of it." I break the quiet.

He lets a mirthless laugh from the corner of his mouth, pouring a generous hand of whiskey over ice.

"There are many important matters you don't yet understand, Draco."

"Enlighten me." I growl through my teeth.

I'd be caned for insolence on any other day, but today I can pretend it's a show for the girl. It's a display of two Malfoys asserting their superiority. He knows this, and such I'm pardoned. I'll be praised for it, because madness is the king of cunning.

xoXOXox

This office reeks of death.

I sit in the corner taking in every little show of worth. The heavy drapes are drawn shut, and I can see the lingering clouds of cigars long past floating in the torchlight. Dragonskin armour and goblin-wrought swords preside over lush magic carpets. I would wager the rugs have been acquired illegally, but fall under some trading loophole only accessible to the elite. Pity they lie so stagnant. I've heard they're an adventure to ride.

An older version of Draco stares down at me from the wall. He speaks.

"Are you one of ours?"

"One of your what, sir?" I respond, because any information I can garner may be useful, and I'm dying of boredom while the Malfoys have their chat.

"Are you mute, girl?" the portrait asks. This communication charm is getting old quickly.

xoXOXox

"Lucius!" booms from my grandfather's portrait. He always had a commanding presence in life. Perhaps more so since passing.

"Father?" my sire answers, cancelling our privacy charm.

"Is this child an heir of mine? She looks to be one of yours. Perhaps a bit of Black blood on the hair." Grandfather gestures toward Lovegoood.

Father sneers as he dismisses us from his presence to have a gentlemanly chat with Grandfather.

xoXOXox

I stride silently through the corridors, milling over Father's "wisdom" he so "graciously" imparted to me.

Lovegood, the father, claims stake to the last dissenting media outlet in Britain. To silence him would be "too brash", too "revealing of a strategy". No, "we" must coerce him,

"...persuade the man to tell the story as we see fit." Father said, "If a wretch such as this comes to our cause, what fountain of information will the usurpers have to drink from?"

Although I see his logic, I also see the flaws in it. The Light supporters will owl one another until all owls are forbidden; write codes on scrolls until the scrolls are burned. They'll meet in secret. They'll disguise themselves. The valiant among us will find a way to know the truth.

I say no more. Now I understand why Lovegood, the daughter, is allowed such leniency in her captivity.

She will be of use so long as Harry Potter is alive.

Never one for spiritual endeavours, for serving kings one cannot comprehend is utter lunacy, I send a silent prayer to any being who may hear for Potter to remain.

xoXOXox

We arrive back in Draco's room, and I immediately collapse on the bed.

The needle worked as well as I thought it would to part the wards. The concealment charm ensured no one saw but Draco and me.

Within moments, I understand I have been awake too long for my body to allow me to rest now.

"May I go on the balcony?" I ask my cellmate, in case he may think I am attempting to roam without him.

"Fine." he replies, distracted.

I step into the blowing wind, leaving the door open. It is a balmy day, not as cold as I would have expected from the inside of the Manor. I shed the outer robe and jumper I've been given and begin to think.

xoXOXox


	7. Bars of Rage

Once again surrounded by the seclusion of my sleeping quarters, I free-fall into the depths of my mind. There are so many thoughts to entertain today, I pick up a scroll and quill to sort through them. I like to organize my musings when I have the opportunity, placing them all in thoroughly labelled compartments. It makes them simple to retrieve when they are required.

I am commanded to protect the girl, so long as her father complies. Shall he fail, or shall Potter fall, I assume I will be thrust another equally vile assignment to contend with once she is slaughtered. Lovegood's father is to be brought before the council soon, and I assume the girl will need to be present. How I am to relate to her, how to contain her, how to ensure none of the filthy snivelling wretches in this regime harms her while she is my charge present another challenge altogether.

The girl sits on the balcony, oblivious to the maelstrom of my worries. A warm, humid wind swallows her in a hurricane of curls as she rolls a knut to and fro over her knuckles. She doesn't seem to notice, or perhaps she doesn't care. I can't decipher which sensations of this world get past the gates of her faraway stare. Perhaps all of them fall in and drown, withering away like a mortal among the fae.

I force myself to continue my task, ignoring the blush creeping into her shoulders as the warmth of the day caresses her.

"Strategy" I write at the top of the page, drawing a vertical line underneath to divide my thoughts in two.

xoXOXox

Plan… I need a plan.

One doesn't present itself outright, so I call to mind a blank piece of parchment floating in a wide-open sky. The words will begin to form when they choose to.

For now, I watch the clouds pass in my thoughts. Fluffy white ones with Harry flying through to catch the snitch, tumultuous black ones bearing thunder and lightning over my father's face as I am gagged and bound to be dragged away from him. Bright, white sun shining through them as Draco wakes up alive.

The page begins to fill.

xoXOXox

I have filled four feet of parchment when my hand begins to cramp. I take a break to review what I've gathered so far.

A warm breeze tousles my parchment, imploring me to indulge in a spot of fresh air. I stroll outdoors to find Lovegood still entranced, in the same position she was in an hour ago.

The girl doesn't acknowledge me as I lean against the stone wall across from her. She remains quiet, looking through her hands as if I don't exist at all.

Her silence itches in my veins.

"What are you doing?" I ask with much more venom than I anticipated. Being ignored has never sat well with me.

"Thinking." she says

"Of what?" I bite back. If she insists on being short when I attempt to have a modicum of civil conversation, two can play that game.

"Sunshine." she says, unbothered.

This girl abuses my patience.

xoXOXox

Draco has interrupted my planning to come to talk with me. Talk at me, mostly.

He throws his hands up to let them flop unceremoniously to his black trousers, flailing into a typical Malfoy tantrum as he launches a tirade.

"Brilliant. Sunshine and rainbows and all the bloody unicorns the forest will provide!" he spits "Please do let me know if you come across a djinn in your wistful imaginings, Lovegood. I could do with a few wishes granted."

His sarcasm is a bit off-key. I don't hear arrogance and audacity banging their war drums per his usual show, but little pings of hurt colliding with his pride.

I've heard children with no siblings sometimes act like this when their parents have difficulty setting boundaries for them. I suppose I'm fortunate to have been the type of child who set boundaries for myself. It's no wonder the boy is lonely if he displays such volatile behaviour when trying to strike a conversation.

He continues -

"Must you insist on being so thoroughly perplexing? Is it entirely necessary to take every mundane conversation and turn it into something incomprehensible?"

I think it's safe to acknowledge saying "every conversation" is a bit of a dramatization on his part. He and I have had only a dozen or so conversations throughout our lives. Speaking solely about this interaction, I don't see what is so incomprehensible about one-word answers. Maybe the potions are starting to impair his functioning.

"I didn't realize you didn't understand what the sun was, Draco."

He fumes, pointing at me as he wanders around the balcony in a huff. The wind mussing the soft white fluff of his hair paints him a striking resemblance to a disgruntled pygmy puff.

"See? Like that! Exactly! Why do you call me Draco, as if we are the best of mates?"

I know what he means, but if I'm going to let him vent, I may as well let him get it thoroughly out of his system. It must be stressful to always be working, if you can call what he's forced to do work. I decide to let the anger erupt in my direction for a moment if he needs it.

"It's your name..." I deliberately coax him.

He growls; literally growls like a dog. How the Malfoys are supposed to be the superior among us I may never understand.

"I know bloody well what my name is, Lovegood!" he shouts at me through his bared teeth.

I decide to quit riling him. Obviously, the boy is conflicted. I can't force him to get it, but I will try nonetheless.

"How am I supposed to live in the same room with you and keep calling you by your surname?" I ask calmly, bringing him back down to reason from the high of his rage. "We slept in the same bed last night, Draco." I use my hands to illustrate the air between us, keeping the explanation short so he can absorb it in his flustered state. "This is what friends do, they call each other by their first names."

"Friends!" he shouts it like an expletive, falling to the chair across from me as he tugs on his white locks. He starts laughing into the long sleeves of his shirt.

This boy seriously needs to see a mind healer.

"What _are_ you?!" he yells, and with it, the last threads of my tolerance shred away.

I am a person, not a "what".

xoXOXox

Friends. She calls the two of us friends. Not "fellow prisoners" or even "captive and captor". Not "two people who may be forced to kill one another at any moment." She wills herself into my good graces. Has she not been paying attention to what becomes of my companions?

I laugh into my arms because tears won't come anymore. I wish they would fall into the dust, dissolve my body into nothing so I could sink into the earth.

She reminds me of my name as if I have mysteriously forgotten what the M on the gate stands for. Perhaps I have.

"Friends call each other by their names, Draco."

'_Friends notice when friends are breaking apart from the inside, Draco.'_

'_Friends don't follow masters who kill their friends, Draco.'_

How can she assume so grandiosely? I know nothing about the infuriating witch aside from the persona she put on at school. I have only heard wretched things about her, her compatriots, her father. I don't even know who her mother is, or what stains her blood.

"What are you?!" I growl frustratedly, clenching my teeth to moderate my volume. Yelling is for savages. Malfoys do not yell.

"When a subject is a person, it's 'Who are you?'" she corrects unabashedly, with the air of a bored professor.

I chastise myself internally for my poor phrasing. Certainly, I've been better educated than to structure a question so vaguely. To regain control of this encounter, I try for a domineering tone. My voice comes out flat as my lack of conviction deceives me.

"What breed are you?" I rephrase myself "Are you a veela? Fae? Half-blood or some such?"

It wouldn't do to get my hopes high for this "friendship", especially if her kind are on the itinerary to be extinguished in the coming months.

She looks at me, into me. All at once I realize my transgression. The professor is not bored, but seething. Her quiet rage is calculating my demise in scores, fifties, hundreds. I am harshly reminded Ravenclaw magic is the darkest sort, for they can cause whatever their evil imaginations conjure up to come to fruition. Her stare is a blade as her thoughts slice me apart again and again in her gaze. She grants the killing blow with her next statement -

"To answer, I am Luna Lovegood. Who are you, Draco Malfoy?"

Once her words materialize, it is apparent she has well made up for my lack of conviction with the assurance in her tone. Her voice is flaccid, robbed of the brightness of her intuition and sharpness of her maddening brand of cunning.

I am a bit taken aback by her answer. Perhaps it's the whiplash from her change of tone or her overtness that has me reeling for stability to take hold in this conversation.

Alas, the silence stretches into the horizon.

She lets her eyes fall, looking once again through the knut rolling languidly over her knuckles.

After several eternities, she straightens up, once again piercing me with her eyes.

"I believe I am a person, as you are a person, regardless of how our blood may be composed." She says, nodding to herself in confirmation as she looks out across the railing.

She considers me a person. One more reason to value her. I'm not so sure I consider myself a person anymore.

"So you are fully human?" I ask incredulously

"Oh goodness, no!" she replies, shocked.

I knew it! It would require the truth to be far too similar to decency for her mother to have been some unknown pureblooded witch who didn't sympathize with those who dare to resist the Dark Lord. It would be outside of the realm of possibility for my vengeful Fates to grant me a single drop of rain to wet the desert of my thirst.

The girl continues -

"Are any of us?" she asks rhetorically, "We're all people, but certainly not all human. We all have our eccentricities, and we all have monsters inside." she concludes at a mumble, staring askance into nothingness.

I count to ten as I pinch the bridge of my nose to postpone the oncoming headache. I may as well be speaking to a sphynx for the riddles this girl comes up with. Perhaps a trifle of hope will present itself if I remain steadfast.

"Right. Will you answer me this, then - are you directly descended from any magical creatures?" I try again to get the answers I seek.

She turns to face me now, crossing her legs beneath her and straightening her spine. The malice is back, injecting its foul venom into her voice.

"You seem quite confused." she quips as I'm stabbed through by the ice in her eyes once again.

I linger on her statement momentarily. This witch has a niche for stating the obvious. As I plan to win this battle by playing on her level, I assume it will be of no consequence for me to be forthright with her. I bury my frustration, as it won't do to let my temper get the best of me.

"Yes. Yes, I suppose I am. Will you answer me?" I ask, inflecting much calmer than I am feeling.

I'm not prepared when she takes my hand. My mind implodes beneath the weight of her touch. There is nothing left to keep me tethered to the Earth as I pine for this insanity.

"Before I can answer you," she says, digging into the occluding space she was not invited to indulge in "we need to define the terms. You seem to think the words 'person' and 'human' have the same meaning. I don't believe such."

The warmth of her touch and the hate in her stare juxtapose each other exquisitely. As if I'm dying softly, being sang into eternity by a beautiful, malicious angel.

Madness, it suits me. I try it on for size, realizing it embraces all my tattered edges, coaxing them to shine anew. I relax into it as a warm comforter on a wet night, letting the remnants of fury melt away into it's lulling chaos to humour her.

"If they are not equal, what might you believe the difference to be?" I ask, genuinely curious to hear her answer, knowing against hope I won't understand it.

The soft light is back in her eyes to keep company with ire as she explains her position.

"A person is someone who can have a personality. Someone who has feelings and a sense of right and wrong."

Puzzles: a Ravenclaw's forte. What has a personality, but isn't a human? I guess at an answer.

"So you think a Veela is a person then?" I question, staying my sarcasm as I attempt in earnest to unravel the workings of the witch before me.

"Yes, Veelas are people. Centaurs are people, as are fae, elves, and children. Anyone who can feel and have a conscience." she confirms, quickly adding "That's why it's called a person-ality, and not a creature-ality."

So for her, a person has a sense of right and wrong. It follows if she believes me to be a person, she believes this sense to be within my reach. I'm sure the girl grants me too much faith.

This brings about a prospect I've dared not think even in the privacy of my mind until this point. Abruptly, I crave to hear it said aloud, if for nothing but to validate my sanity. And so, with a deep inhale, I ask the plaguing question in one breath.

"Are muggles people or creatures?"

Lovegood thinks for a moment, her eyes glittering with curiosity as her mouth stays pursed in stoicism.

"I've never met a muggle to know for certain, but I would assume they are people. They do occasionally birth witches and wizards, and I don't see how they could manage that if they weren't some sort of person."

She states it so simply, so refined - as if it had been a mundane observation she made while walking in the garden. For all I know, perhaps it was.

xoXOXox

I have used up every trickle of my mental capacity to attempt conversation with the brick wall that is Draco Malfoy. I've no idea if he understood any of the thoughts I bombarded him with, but I'm out of strength to check his comprehension.

"I'm tired now." I tell him "Come, Draco."

I pull his hand that still sits in mine. I've never wanted to believe people have to be trained to listen like pets. I've never believed they could be. A bit of conditioning to hear his name may do him good though, so Draco it is, from now until we part.

I drag him to my sleeping space because I do not wish to be awakened by his screaming from across the room while I lay helpless in my wards. If his demons release themselves, I'd rather be close enough to contend with them.

He follows where I lead, although I'm sure he's not sleepy having awakened only hours ago. I collapse on top of him. He makes for a lumpy pillow, but at least he's clean and warm.

"Sleep sweetly, Lovegood." I hear him say as I drift away.

"Luna" I instruct as I fall beyond the veil.

xoXOXox

"Luna" I say into the air.

The moon, the light in the darkness. My mouth wraps around the word, savouring the sound. For now, I can allow myself a sweet morsel of compliance to temper the growing hunger.

I know when she awakens, when we stride out of these quarters into the hellish landscape of reality, she'll be Lovegood again. Once more she'll be a pawn no less disposable than I am. She, like me, is but one wet heartbeat away from eternity.

But here, pinned to the guest sheets inside my mother's blood wards, I am the artist of my lies. I can, and do, create a world of my own within these confines.

In my creation, I am my namesake: a constellation of glittering stars protecting the queen of the night: the glorious moon in all her splendour.

She shines brightly as she sleeps.

Here in seclusion, we will exist until the sky falls from heaven and the sun explodes in it's violent, evil wrath.

Madness, it suits me.

xoXOXox

In Draco's arms, I fall into dreams of broomsticks flying through wide-open gates. When I top the wards and fall from the sky, I land on my feet to take off at a run. Faster, faster than I ever could in life, I jump, and the wind catches hold of me. I take flight once more.

There are no battles, no smells of burning flesh and wet ground. Only spice and expensive soap to fill the air.

xoXOXox

The girl has been asleep for three hours. The sun is setting and my stomach gurgling as I set down the book I have no passion to read. It's been floating above my face on the same page for some time now. If I sleep now, I won't be able to feel the hunger. Bright idea, Malfoy.

I shut my eyes to let the darkness take me.

xoXOXox

"Rise, witch." It's a woman's voice, almost musical in its harshness, like the low chords of a piano being all played at once. "Personal hygiene practices are paramount in this household."

A tiny hand grips me, jostling me to wakefulness.

"Five more minutes, mum." I request. I know she'll let me sleep just a moment longer. She always does.

"Call her mum again and I swear I'll put you out of my misery."

Professor Snape.

Bugger.

I'm awake.

xoXOXox

I try to push myself onto my arms, but Draco holds me fast. The hand that holds my stomach against him rises up my back to my head, digging once again into my hair.

I don't like where this is going.

He pulls me close to his mouth to whisper in my ear.

"Friends trust each other, Luna. Play along."

I know this is manipulation. Unfortunately, he knows better than I do how to navigate a den full of Slytherins. I guess I can play along with his little game. If this goes tits up, Snape is here, and he can hear me.

Draco's voice is silk and honey as he places his lips on my neck. Deception at it's finest.

"Five minutes isn't much to ask. Why not let the girl rest, Mother? She's had a long night."

Narcissa snorts and throws a derogatory glance in my direction.

"I don't wish to be party to your dalliances, Draco. You have two minutes to get the girl up and in the lavatory."

"Hasn't Father informed you?" Draco drawls before his mother has the chance to storm away. The false surprise in his tone sickens me as he continues.

"No? Pity." He clicks his tongue, locking eyes with me as he brushes my hair from my face. "Grandfather thinks she would make a suitable heir. I must say I agree with him."

Professor Snape interjects, grabbing Draco roughly by the collar to drag us both to our feet.

"Your grandfather is dead, boy. Unless you care to join him in eternal damnation I suggest you do as your mother has bid. Council will begin at eight sharp."

My mind is thrown for a loop at how easily Draco switches into the persona that suits him best. For Professor Snape, he's once again the cocky menace he played at school, striding haughtily to his wardrobe.

Instead of the same black robes he wears outside these walls, he floats a formal gown ahead of him. Deep blue silk flows to the ground as he levitates it before me.

"To set off your eyes, lovely." He winks. This has to be the most lively I've seen him so far.

I nod my head in appreciation to Narcissa, who is currently looking at me as if I am something she stepped in on the way to the stables.

"Come." She orders, and I follow her into the lavatory along with the gown.

xoXOXox

"What… are… you… thinking… Draco?" Godfather snarls through clenched teeth. "If the Dark Lord hears tale that you've compromised the girl…"

"Godfather," I interrupt "I'm winning her to our side. She's incredibly useful, and her allegiance will provide all the more reason for her father to cooperate."

I'm a swift liar, one of the best I've ever seen when threatened.

"If his daughter's head on a plate is not enough reason for the man to do as he is commanded then he is a fool." Godfather spits into my face.

"Is it not our place to procure intelligence,

Godfather? Doesn't that mean subverting the expectations of fools?"

"It is my place to procure intelligence, Draco. It is your place to keep the girl alive!" he booms.

"For what?!" I roar. The volume I reach startles me. "So she can die when her father is no longer of use? No, I won't waste her, Godfather. She is intelligent. Look at me!"

I show him my palms, my eyes, my skin.

"She did this." I say softly.

Godfather stares his black daggers into my soul, daring me to say more.

I stand as tall as possible, tilting my head back to look down at Godfather's inky locks.

"I want my award for killing Dumbledore."

xoXOXox

Narcissa slams the door with her magic. The sound of wood attacking the frame echoes through the endless lavatory corridor.

She speaks down her nose to me as her anger rolls and boils in the air between us.

"You will not harm him." She commands.

Of course, I won't. Why should I?

"When we get out of here, you will vow such. Now, make a valiant effort to appear worthy to be seen alongside my son."

I do as I'm told. I have no desire to incur Narcissa's wrath. Not when I could use her cooperation to get me out of here in one piece.

xoXOXox

"Your award is having your neck attached to your shoulders, you ungrateful cretin." Godfather sneers.

"Come now, the Dark Lord rewards his most loyal, does he not? Certainly ridding the world of such an inconvenience deserves a prize every snivelling sycophant in this regime doesn't have."

Godfather's nostrils flare in his fury.

"I want to restore my name, Godfather. Lovegood can assist in this endeavour, only if she is alive."

I'm pleading with him now, and he knows it. The man is brilliant at hearing all the nuances I've left in the space between my words.

_'Let me loose from my cage, Godfather. Let the girl live once her father is disposed of. Give me a chance at freedom if the Dark Lord fails to conquer all.'_

"I'll do what I can." He says, billowing away to wait for my mother.

xoXOXox

_A/N: _

_Credits:_

_All hail PhoenixDragon111, aka my adorable ride or die Nyxxi Pixie for betaing this fic free of charge. Please do yourself the favour of reading her stories. They will give you a whole new appreciation for atmospheric description and character motivation. _

_May Devon A. Snow, formidable witch and heir to the throne enjoy every ounce of freedom she syphons during her holiday. Narcissa's line about hygiene was a stroke of her brilliance._

_May Bob Ross, wizard of beautiful happy accidents via ASMR painting rest in bliss. The "creating your own world" line is his._

_Luna's meditation on the clouds is a traditional Buddhist meditation which I learned from Andy Puddicombe of Headspace_. 


	8. So He Opens His Throat

"What game are we playing, Draco?"

"Longevity."

"What do we get if we win?"

"A quiet home in the countryside. Travel, parties, children, familiars, whatever your heart desires."

"And you?"

xoXOXox

To say I am not a proficient liar would be a gross understatement. I'm so unpracticed at the art of deceit, I doubt I could do it to save my life if I needed to tonight. Maybe I could be adept at trickery if I applied myself to the task, but I've never been one to purposely avoid the truth. Quite the opposite. I tend to look at things and say to myself, "_Ah, this is what is."_ instead of "_This is how I can make others see what I wish was there."_ I never assumed I would need to. So much for logical assumptions.

If there is one thing I've learned about Slytherins, it's that everything is a game to them. Life is a game. War is a game. They are not out to solve problems but to win. This negotiation with my father is only a move to ensure they do exactly that. They think me a pawn to be played to their whims. Perhaps I am, but pawns can become queens if they make it past the enemy lines alive.

I don't yet understand the rules to this engagement, and I've not quite settled into the part that I am supposed to be playing with Draco. Luckily, he seems to be making this easy for me. So long as I stay quiet and follow his lead, we should make it out of this meeting unscathed.

First, we stride through the halls of the Manor hand in hand. Narcissa and Professor Snape flank us, putting on quite a show of pureblooded coldness and acidic imposition, respectively. It's quite fortunate for them I seem to be the only aura reader in the vicinity, or their cover would be blown wide open.

The hem of the ball gown I've been given is charmed to float just above my ankles so I don't muss it up and fall on my face. Handy bit of charmwork, that. If I could talk to the elves, I might have them teach me the spell for when I regain a wand.

I digress -

I've been loaned sapphires and diamonds of varying sizes to drape over my neck and ears and hands. Every stitch says "_Look! I'm unharmed! You know, aside from the kidnapping bit, they are taking excellent care of me in this prison! See dad, Slytherins can play fair when they want to!_"

Bollocks. It's all bollocks.

We arrive at a grand indoor courtyard. Shapeless figures in black robes and silver masks form a border at the edge of the room. Water fountains with changing colours and tapestries scraping both the floor and sky-high ceiling suggest we will be having a garden party rather than a hostage negotiation tonight.

We all stop in front of a wall-length mirror. I assume this is where we will be speaking to my father.

Draco makes a show of tucking my hair back and placing a kiss to my cheek. As he begins to slip the wretched costume over his face, I take the chance to murmur into his ear -

"What game are we playing, Draco?"

xoXOXox

CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK

Merlin's beard Luna's shoes are loud.

CLACK CLACK CLACK… silencing charm. I can't take any more intrusion into my thoughts.

As it is, Mother is standing too close, suffocating me with her presence. Godfather's glare sucks all the air from the corridor, and he isn't even looking my direction. It's hotter than Hades' arse in this hall.

My breathing is unpleasantly audible. If I glanced down, I'm sure I could see my heart pounding underneath my robes.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

Sweat pours down my back, under my arms, through my shirt and across Luna's hand, which I belatedly realize I'm crushing between my fingers. She doesn't seem bothered by it, or anything. The girl has nerves of steel.

'_Wits about you, Malfoy! Breathe. This is all just a show, let's not make it a tragedy. You've survived this long, what's one more person to survive with you?' _I reassure myself.

So simple to think, yet so painstakingly difficult to act upon when every survival instinct I have is screaming for me to run far and hide well.

I tuck her hair behind her ear, lean forward in a show of possession.

'_You have solid excuses. Your occlumency shields are nearly impenetrable.'_ I remind myself.

'_Nearly' _pangs against the walls of my skull to pulverize my conviction.

I brush my lips against the skin of her cheek, hoping to all the gods and deities her expression doesn't betray my cunning. I take a languid moment to slide my mask down over my features to calm myself.

'_Think of all you stand to gain, Malfoy.'_

'_Malfoy...'_

'**_Draco _**_Malfoy.' _

"What game are we playing, Draco?"

xoXOXox

"Longevity," he whispers back through the mask

He'll have to fill me in on the details of this "longevity" later. I've found one can't be too careful when clarifying rules in high-stakes undertakings. For example, are we playing for _my _longevity? His? Ours? Dad's? His family's? I would prefer a solution where everyone can live, aside from maybe He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, but I won't chance to assume Draco is shooting for the same prize.

Silence falls over the courtyard. Lucius Malfoy steps forward, no mask to hide his face. I might feel as bold as he does if I had recently been broken out of prison by a powerful, evil wizard too.

He casts an incantation, and the mirror comes to life.

On the other side is my father, his eyes red and hair strewn about. He's standing in front of our mantle at home.

'_Don't worry, dad. I'll be there soon.'_

But never soon enough.

"Ah, Xenophilius, how gracious of you to join us this evening." Lucius taunts

"Luna! You're alive!" dad gasps, completely ignoring Lucius to fall with both hands into the mirror.

I hate seeing him like this. He has the look of a wild animal caught in a snare - lost, alone and trapped.

I wave with just the tips of my fingers, hoping that he catches it.

Lucius continues speaking to dad.

"Yes, well, we do tend to keep to our end of the bargain in these matters. I trust you have made the necessary improvements to your operation?"

"We have all new staff, Lord Malfoy. I turned them over yesterday. I'll do anything you ask, sir. Anything." he begs "Just send my daughter back to me alive."

'_No, dad, not anything. Maybe some things, but don't give them everything. Not for me.' _

Draco grips my hand harder as his father speaks again.

"All in due time." he says "Keep to our Lord's commands, and I assure you your daughter will be safe in your home by Yule."

"Yule?!" dad yells, his eyes going wide in shock. "That's almost a year away! You can't possibly expect to keep my daughter from me until then?"

"What I expect, Mr Lovegood is your enthusiastic cooperation in any affairs regarding the Ministry if you wish to have your daughter returned to you. Are we clear?"

He's rubbing circles over the serpent's head of his cane.

"Clear." dad replies, defeated.

xoXOXox

This is the first time I've seen the girl break her stoicism. She is toying with my palm and shifting in her shoes as our father's converse. I hold her hand tighter as the negotiations ensue.

The conversation ends, and the charmed mirror once again shows our reflections. It's not what I would have wished for. My moon is shrouded in darkness, surrounded by the black abyss of night. By her side stands a fallen star, silver face reflecting her light to burn holes in her glory.

I have to fix this.

"Tonight." Godfather drawls into my ear.

I nod my head.

Tonight.

xoXOXox

The hall falls silent as a large door booms shut somewhere outside of the courtyard.

Something is scraping across the ground as if it's being dragged.

A low drawling hiss permeates the dragging.

I see it: The largest snake I've ever laid eyes on slithering across the floor towards us. It has an aura; black, grey and red. Is it an animagus?

Where is Harry when you need him?

The enormous serpent makes it's way past the fountains and finery to curl up around a high backed wooden chair at the opposite end of the hall.

"Luciussssss….." Is hissed from behind us.

xoXOXox

The Dark Lord has entered our midst. He calls my father, who immediately drops to his knees to kiss the Dark Lord's hem. I implore the bile to hold fast in my gut.

"Alwayssss the capable politician, Luciussss. Well done." parts from the Dark Lord's mouth

"It is my pleasure to serve you, My Lord." my father grovels

The rest of us drop to our knees and say "My Lord" simultaneously as if our minds are all connected by a string. If not our minds, our mouths are one, for none dares to break this ritual and risk the wrath of our master.

I pull Luna down with me and hear her say "My Lord" as well. Something is not right about her voice. The luminance is gone.

xoXOXox

A soft tingling enters my mind as I stare at the snake. Professor Snape, who still flanks me, brushes me softly with the edge of his robes. I stay with the sensation as he gently sorts through my memories of the past few days.

"_Ms Lovegood,"_ his voice appears in my thoughts "_In a moment, you are going to feel like you desperately desire to rest. Take it."_

I go with the sleep and feel my voice slip away from me as I'm dragged to the ground.

xoXOXox

"My Lord," Godfather speaks.

"Severussss, old friend." the Dark Lord hisses through his schadenfreude mockery of a smile. "How may you serve me this evening?"

Godfather steps forward, again dropping to his knees, casting his eyes at the ground. If father's display is grotesque and sickening, Godfather's is a knife to my throat. "If it pleases you, my Lord, I would like to bear to you the news of my most recent assignment."

"Rise, Severusss." the Dark Lord commands. "Speak."

"No voices are opposing you in Britain, My Lord. The usurpers have no vehicles to sully your name. The ministry is in our hands, My Lord. Any being who dares to oppose you will not be spared. In addition, we have been granted a boon with our new form of leverage."

Godfather controls the silence masterfully as the Dark Lord's grey skin arches around his eye where a brow should be. I'm surprised Luna hasn't fainted or hurled at the sight.

"Go on." he commands to Godfather.

"The girl was forced into opposing us only by her unfortunate influences, My Lord. Her allegiance lies with you and you alone and has for many years. She is a formidable soldier and a competent healer. I implore you to bring her into our ranks, My Lord, under the protection of the Malfoy heir."

"Your claims are bold, Severussss. I trust you won't deceive me." the Dark Lord's vile teeth are bared as he incants

"Legilimens."

xoXOXox

A million stone walls shoot up around me all at once. I'm blocked away from my thoughts, a prisoner in my own mind as I'm forced to stand by and listen to scenes clipped and mangled playing out without my permission.

First, healing Draco. Then, a frightening visage of me in a grey jumper with my hair wild about my head. Draco's grandfather asking if I belong to his lineage.

The next thoughts aren't mine at all. Draco and I spending hours in the library researching Dark Arts. Us practising the offensive spells I learned in the DA. Dad and I fighting about the stories he publishes.

Harry.

I'm standing over him, his face is bloodied and he is unconscious.

What on earth is happening?

xoXOXox

I'm going to be sick. I'm going to blackout. Luna and I are going to die and be buried in a mass grave on my own grounds.

Godfather, whatever sorcery this is, let it end. Please let it end.

"Well done, Severusss…" comes from the Dark Lord. "Rise, child."

Luna stands.

"My Lord." says the ghost of her voice "It's the highest honour to be allowed into your service."

xoXOXox

Quiet chaos is the loneliest kind. To not know, to silently pine with nerves on edge is a sickness that eats the flesh from the inside out.

I can't wait to get home to my DOLD.

We walk through the corridors on the way to my quarters, the clacking and clicking and hissing but a melody to lull me to compliance. My thoughts are too loud to pay them any mind.

She speaks -

"What do we get if we win?"

I say the first thing that comes to mind, all my desires, everything that would make my life a peaceful shade of normalcy. Being close to this girl has already embedded me with habits that could get me killed.

"A quiet home in the countryside. Travel, parties, children, familiars, whatever your heart desires."

"And you?" she asks, every bit of vibrancy returning to her smile to mock me.

I stop walking, pulling off my mask to take her face in my hands.

"And me? What about me?" I beg, all the air in my lungs standing silent

Please let me have understood her implication correctly. Let me be the consolation she desires to win for this farce of a gamble we play with our lives.

"What do you want, Draco?" she asks with wide eyes and red lips and all the haunting beauty hell has to offer.

Sadistic, tyrannical Fates.

xoXOXox

Draco looks like he's been smashed in the face with a cauldron.

His fingertips feel like butterflies who have lighted on me, barely touching my face as I watch his brain jam and break into pieces.

I remain patient, looking into his eyes to wait for his answer.

He throws up a silencing charm, leaning his head under my hair to speak in my ear.

"I want to be free."

"You can be." I tell him, because I'm not sure he knows he has a choice anymore.

That seems to be what he needed. He throws his arms around me, pulling me into an embrace so tight it pops the bones in my back. I return it tenfold to strengthen him.

We walk back to his room with our fingers entertwined and digging into my waist. This won't be the end of our conversation.


	9. His Tune is Heard

I splatter my blood on the wards and hope it's for the last time.

I can't believe we survived the night. I've no idea what tricks of magic Godfather and Luna have composed, but I've never felt relief like this before.

That was too close. Much too close to a slaughter of everyone I care about to ignore.

I have to get out of here.

And I may just have a realistic opportunity to do so.

But first…

I lift Luna to spin her in circles. She laughs wholeheartedly, her white teeth shining in the moonlight. I set her gently on her feet to press her against me once more, holding her tightly enough to absorb into me completely.

She returns the sentiment, cradling my back in her arms as she buries her face in my robes.

Merlin damn these robes. I don't want to see them ever again. I vanish them to the wardrobe, leaving me in my shirt and trousers. I breathe in citrus and bluebells and the smell of sunshine as I run my hands over her silken curls.

"We did it, Luna. We lived." I sigh into her hair

I feel her breath hitch as warm tears leak onto my chest.

xoXOXox

Back in Draco's room, as he sets me on my feet, the feelings hit me in one shot.

I've been Imperiused. Whether to sell my services to a tyrant or to spare my life, I can't be certain. I refuse to believe they are one in the same circumstance, although objectively they might be.

My dad is at home, without me, ready to sell his soul to dementors if it means bringing me back safe.

Harry is missing. Hermione is missing. Ginny is locked in a madhouse of a school with who knows what danger surrounding her. Everyone I love is in similar perilous circumstances.

Professor Snape lied through my mind for me. Draco protects me. Narcissa provides for me. My supposed enemies are all risking their lives to ensure my safety.

Guilt and responsibility enclose me like a coat that's four sizes too big.

We still have a whole war to win, and yet, I just want to go home.

xoXOXox

"It's okay," I tell her, believing my own falsehoods for a moment "We survived. We're going to live, okay? We're going to live."

She wipes her nose on my shirt, finding another dry place to soak through with her silent tears.

"This," she chokes out, her voice strangled with emotion "is not living… Draco. This is torture."

This witch is the most brilliant of the outcasts to be certain. Her unrepentant brand of truth is not helpful to my plight in the slightest.

"Shh…" I coax like the piss-poor comforter that I am.

She grabs two fistfuls of my clothing, muffling her voice into it. She's trying to disappear.

I take her knees over my forearm to lift her, carrying her studiously to my bed. It's leagues more comfortable than the one mother has set her up with so perhaps she can relax into it. She melts into the dark blue silk, finding her place in a deep night sky. I remain standing and draw the curtain for her as I vanish the awfully clanging footwear and needlessly flowing gown to replace it with an old quidditch jersey and knee-high socks. Reminders of the freedom a broom can provide bring me solace; perhaps it will do the same for her.

Once she is decent, I part the canopy once more to sit beside her. She lays her head in my lap, looking into my eyes as my heart shatters into dust.

"Do you own me now?" she asks.

"Never." I instantly reply

xoXOXox

"What was all of that?" I ask, more to myself than to Draco. I'm not expecting an answer, so I continue babbling to clear my mind.

"Your grandfather, your Godfather, why?" So much for clarity. I try again -

"Why do they think I belong here? Why do you think you can trade me for compliance? Do they think they going to keep me alive to play with me for sport?"

I'm crying again now. This isn't like me. I don't cry. I think. I solve. I save.

He starts to speak, and I smother his mouth in my hand. Shut up, Draco. I'm not finished.

"Why did you kiss me? Why did you lie to your mother? Why do you ask for your freedom only to keep me in chains?!"

The confusion turns to anger, spewing loud, violent words from my mouth. I have to be careful not to cut him with my sharp tongue in this state.

I jerk my hand back from his mouth, sitting up to look him in the eyes. I may be held hostage, but he won't tower over me. I'm not his doll to play dress-up with or carry around to do as he pleases.

xoXOXox

"Luna, let me explain, please," I beg, dropping to my knees alongside my bed to look up at her.

I place my hands on her thighs between the jersey and the socks, running circles with my palms as I prepare to plunge into insanity.

"I only wanted to ensure you aren't executed if your father doesn't comply. I'm owed a penance for…" I choose my words carefully. "... a mission I completed. I planned to ask for your life as my reward, and it would be a more persuasive plea to the powers that be if we seemed cosy together. Godfather subverted my plans without my collaboration."

She softens at this, her ire seeming to retreat a tad as she continues listening.

"Luna," I implore, gathering what remains of my gentility to push into my voice and expression "I'm an Occlumens. I would never consent to have you Imperiused. I wouldn't wish that curse on anyone. I can't imagine what it feels like to be invaded in your last remaining stronghold."

Torture in the highest degree, to have your body trampled upon to use as fuel for the whims of another. I would never… not for my worst enemy, and certainly not for her.

'_Believe me. Please believe me.' _I plead with my eyes

She grips my hair at this, forcing my throat bare before her.

"Your mother?" she questions "I can't imagine why you would need to pretend in front of her. Friends don't lie to each other, Draco." she intones with a sneer worthy of any Malfoy

I swallow, and the truth pains me as it grates against my airways.

"Instinct" I cough out. "I lie to protect her."

"How does telling her I already vowed not to harm you protect her, or you for that matter?" she asks incredulously

'_I lie to protect those I love.' _shimmers in my mind.

"It doesn't." I say, truthfully "It protects you. Can you imagine if she forced you to take some kind of vow not to harm me, only to have the Dark Lord order you to torture me? You would be murdered on the spot, Luna." I swallow again as her grip on my hair intensifies. "Besides, it wasn't completely a lie. You did vow not to harm me, for a night."

"I could harm you right now," she says, the point of the wand I'd left on the pillow suddenly thrust heartily into my throat. "I could harm you and run. I could lock you in your own dungeons and leave you here to suffer."

She lays the wand atop my hand on her leg, pulling me upright to stand before her.

"But I won't," she says "because friends don't see friends' freedom as a game."

xoXOXox

I'm awful with Slytherin strategy. All the masterminding and little secrecies in their wording leave me in tatters. Instead, I'll play to my strength, which is telling the truth and making the impossible happen.

"I plan to be free, Draco. If you're serious, you can come with me. If not, keep playing games with your own life, not mine." I tell him, staring into ice-grey eyes I know would have been frozen shut if I decided not to care so much.

I'm still reeling from the blow, from the confusion and hurt of it all. I desperately wish for my stuffed creatures and a cup of hot cocoa to make the world stop spinning for a moment.

He slips his hand into mine, tangling our fingers as he touches my face like the award he thinks me to be.

"I'll go," he says, and the blue creeping up his aura tells me he means it this time. "I want this, Luna. I want you."

Determination is such a flighty thing. I want to ensure his motivations are where they should be if he is going to throw in all his galleons to escape with me.

"You can't want me, Draco." I tell him "You have to want this for yourself. I'm not a thing to be had, and I could die tomorrow."

He silences me with his mouth, and I don't fight him this time. I bite down on the lips that are filled with blood because I want him to feel. I taste the sweetness of all the lies that coat his slick tongue.

"Please don't say things like that." he whispers into my mouth.

He lays back onto his pillow, handing me the wand I recently returned to him.

"Kill me, and run." he says, "Or take me with you, but please don't die without me."

xoXOXox

The dreamy smile is back on her face as she presides over my life with my wand in her hand.

"That's a bit dramatic, don't you think, Draco?" she asks.

No, no it isn't.

You can't tell me over tea, "The sky might come collapsing down to smother you beneath it." and expect me not to react accordingly.

She reaches a hand to me. A gentlemanly handshake amid my woes.

"If we go, we go together. Deal?" she asks flippantly.

I hesitate for a moment. This is it. This is the moment that will seal my fate in stone, burn the ladders I've worked so hard to climb.

I can't imagine a world where Voldemort is my master for eternity. I can't fathom the fear and uncertainty sitting on my heart until I die from the weight of not knowing. I heave internally at the thought of Dementors being my only companions if the Dark Lord is vanquished.

"Deal," I say, taking her hand in mine. "On my magic."

"On my magic" she repeats, and our hands glow blue amidst the darkness.

"We need a plan." she tells me, instantly reforming into an eagle in the serpents' cage

"I think I've fucked up enough plans for one evening, wouldn't you say so, lovely?"

The truth flows out easier and easier the more I practise.

"It was a nice plan, Professor Snape just interrupted it." She muses. "I think I rather like being a reward. Most people consider me to be a nuisance."

I can't help but smile at the thought.

"Most people are idiots." I say

"Not exactly." she replies "Most people are just ignorant, like your father."

Usually, such a blunt assessment of my family's failings would have me enraged. Not so much after what has transpired tonight.

"Tell me about it." I snort. "The man can't distinguish his arse from a hole in the ground lately."

Is this even my voice speaking? Has my occluding room finally overflowed its boundaries to escape into reality?

"Have you ever found it interesting how paradoxical he is, your father?" she continues

"What do you mean by that?" I ask. No use in pretending to understand.

"I mean, he's so strikingly handsome, but his temperament is so vile and he does such terrible things." A look of genuine confusion crosses her face, shaking itself down into her smile "All he claims to care about is the Malfoy name, but he doesn't seem to make decisions that are good for you and your mum."

"Ignorance" I reply. I think the one word sums up Father's strategy neatly.

"Speaking of ignorance," she says " how much longer do you suppose we'll need to keep up this cosy act we're playing at?"

"Depends on how quickly we come up with a plan to get out of here."

"Well then, I suppose you'll need to teach me how to kiss you, because I have no idea what I'm doing."

I choke on my saliva.

xoXOXox


	10. And Dips His Wing

I help him sit up and pat his back as he chokes on nothing. I find it slightly disappointing that he's so easily surprised.

"What… why would you say that?" he stammers, catching his breath.

"Well if we are going to go about pretending to be lovestruck and such, we should at least try to look the part." I explain "Also, if you are going to insist on kissing me at regular intervals, it should at least not be unpleasant for you."

He stares blankly at me. His brain is breaking again.

Bother.

xoXOXox

"It's not… you're not, unpleasant."

Eloquent, Malfoy. Sheer poetry.

"I wouldn't know." she replies

Salazar. What have I gotten myself into?

"Did you not… did you not feel anything? I mean…"

Fuck, Malfoy, think!

I start again -

"I mean, the first time, I know I was blasted out of my head from the potions - I truly made an idiot of myself - but just now, you didn't feel anything?"

A puzzling look crosses her features; she's confused. My articulation is probably not helping matters.

"What was I supposed to feel?" she asks, and I think she means it in a way I don't have a grasp of.

If I ever have the opportunity to meet my Fates, if they even exist, each one will have a Crucio with their name on it. I'm hexing them until my wand arm collapses for this moment alone.

My conscience interrupts, sounding so much like Godfather's voice it's unsettling.

'You just made a vow to escape with her, Malfoy! Fix this! Speak the truth!' it demands

"Luna, I…" I begin, not certain which voice to listen to

This is my last chance to lie. My last chance to salvage some dignity out of this flaming mess I've made. Gods, I don't have the energy. I face the cold water, flinching as the words pour out of me.

"I care for you." I rush out in one breath.

There. It's been said. May as well dig my grave deep and tidy, so I go on -

"This, what just happened, I wasn't pretending, Luna. There's no one here to put on a show for."

"Weren't you trying to get me to stop talking?" she asks with a sincerity that grates on my nerves

Why does this girl take every move I make and strip away the nuance to assault me with factual statements? I'm going to lose my final sensibilities trying to have a forthright conversation with her!

"You said you might die tomorrow!" I raise my voice and regret it immediately. I don't wish to scare her or for her to realise the reactions she causes. I lower my volume expeditiously.

"Do you know how it feels, to hear someone you care for say they may leave you so soon?"

"I do." she states, flatly.

xoXOXox

When Harry said he was going away and didn't know when he would return my heart was shredded into the tiniest bits. Not that I showed it.

"I'll be waiting." I told him, placing a string of charms around his neck "Keeps the nargles away."

"Thanks." he said smiling the same boyish grin that told me everything would be alright.

It wasn't. It isn't.

Harry's been gone for months. He may be gone forever. I hope against all reason he will return victorious, but hope is like a candle in the wind: it flickers on and off as the night grows longer.

Now I'm gone, too.

Harry was kind; a brave-hearted boy with dreams that everyone could be treated well. Perhaps somewhere, he still is. I never thought he could love me that way. I guessed he was only nice to me because I was the lonesome sort, always shoved off by people who didn't care to think past the bridge of their nose.

I never kissed him. I never told him how much he meant to me. Maybe I never will.

xoXOXox

"You understand, then?" I ask her, biting my nails into the bedsheets to stay my hands from trembling

"I think so," she begins "but that wasn't the point, was it?"

"What was your point, then?" I ask, and if I didn't know my eyes were incapable of tears, I would say they sting a bit

"You were going to teach me how to kiss you."

This is the exact moment my heart rips in two.

xoXOXox

"Was I?" he says, going off on another babble "Look, Luna, you don't have to do this. We don't have to keep up the facade. You're part of the Dark Lord's ranks now, and you don't need me to vouch for you. I'll still escort you and ensure your safety. We can sleep in different beds. You don't have to if you don't mean it. Godfather has his plan sorted out and if you will just…"

I interrupt him -

"Who said I didn't mean something? What don't I mean, Draco?"

He doesn't answer me and instead does the bizarre thing where he laughs into his shirt. I wonder if Hermione would know a thing or two about Muggle mind medicine to help him with this.

After he finishes his laughing fit, he sighs into the air. Perhaps he's wishing on a star, or praying to Merlin, or whatever it is Malfoys do to comfort themselves.

He takes my face in his hands, shaking me ever so slightly.

"What is going on in that intricate mind of yours, lovely?" he asks, and for once, I don't know how to answer.

"Probably a hoard of pixies trying to put things together and make them work." is what I say, because it's the most natural description of my mind.

xoXOXox

I stare at her for a while taking in every feature while I wonder if this is the last time I'll be close enough to touch her this way.

Friends can't make friends love them, I suppose.

"Do you want this, Luna? Do you want me?" I ask in her language of blatency

I'm half expecting her to ask me to clarify the meaning of "want" or what "this" is exactly. I hope she doesn't. Those concepts couldn't be explained with a diagram and full presentation. I'm not even sure what I mean at this point. All I know is I want her to remain, preferably with me.

I envision her dissolving into mist along with every hope I hold onto.

"So much." is what she actually says.

She grasps my shaking hand and crawls into my lap. I lean my forehead against hers and let my eyes fall shut. Her hands slide up my arms to rest in my hair as she softly says to me -

"I want you to live, Draco. I want you to be free, Draco. And I'd like to kiss you now if that's alright."

Gingerly, she tilts my chin up to face her. She touches me as if I'm made of glass and the slightest pressure will send me blasting into shards.

Perhaps it will.

I allow myself to be surrounded in her eyes, losing every mournful memory and expectation for my future deep within them.

"Do it." I command

xoXOXox

This is going to be an interesting experiment.

I've never initiated a kiss before, but it doesn't seem to be difficult. I'll start with what Draco does, and we'll see how it ends up from there.

I pull his lower lip into my mouth, suckling a bit before I run my tongue along the edge. My lips aren't as full as his are, so I close them both to place on his one.

There, that wasn't so hard.

I tilt my head, laying my hand on his neck to pull him closer to me. I close my lips over his; close, open, close. He parts for me, and I let my tongue slide alongside his. In, out, in; they dance together as he wraps his arms tightly around my waist. I run my thumb along his jaw, feeling sharp pricks of stubble from his last shave. It's so rough and jagged, I crave to feel the softness of his hair again, so I do. I drag my teeth along his lower lip and place another kiss there. His heart is pounding into my chest. Mine will slow his down.

This is fun. Let's try something new.

I push my weight forward to place him on his back. He obliges. Good.

I lean down to take the skin of his neck in my mouth, pulling the slightest bit as I let my tongue roll back and forth. He tastes amazing. The clean spice I smell in my dreams is wrapped in my senses. This is what taking a bite of a crisp autumn day must feel like.

With a tinge of regret, I release his fluffy blonde softness as I move a little lower, testing different pressures against his throbbing pulse with the tip of my tongue. He seems to like that, as he makes the same sounds he did when eating his apple the other night, running his hands under the jersey smooth up my back. I take the liberty to unbutton his collar a few notches, suckling on the muscles of his chest until his skin turns hot and red. I want to return to his hair, and I'd like to check my progress, so I remove my attention for a moment to look in his eyes.

"Not unpleasant?" I ask

"Not at all" he responds

xoXOXox

I will never understand this witch. I may as well resolve myself to it now and remove the idea far from my mind. How she would dare underestimate herself to the point she thinks I need to teach her anything is beyond my comprehension. Then again, I suppose most of the blood has departed from my mind at the moment.

She takes her time with me, learning every movement to set me on fire. She pulls me apart not all at once, but thread by thread. My hands span across her entire back, granting me the softest touch I've felt in my life. I'm touched by the sky, wrapped in a cloud.

She looks into my eyes, and the remains of my battlements crumble into sand.

She has to be mine.

I sit the two of us upright, grasping her waist as to not send her careening into the silk sheets. Carefully, I lean her back, back until her hair cascades across my pillows like a burst of golden sun.

Glorious.

"Is this ok?" I ask, because, given our previous encounters, one can never be too certain of her interpretation.

She nods her head and pulls me back into her arms by my hair, so I shall deem her answer to be sufficient.

I take her mouth roughly, plunging deep into it to fill her fully. I want to feel every caress of her, to memorize her taste, her smell, the way her petite frame fits perfectly against me. I take a fistful of her hair as I graze my teeth along her lip, feeling it swell with blood between mine.

She better fucking mean this.

As I bite along her neck, she whines softly. The sound alone is enough to cause my heart to explode from its confines, but I persist. I nip at her ears, run my tongue across the edges, pull them into my mouth. I claim every space of exposed skin for myself. My fingers slide over her collarbone, tracing all the delicate lines that were drawn specifically for me.

If we make it out of here alive, if we ever part ways, she'll remember me in every lighted nerve.

I slide my hand up her delicate arm, placing most of my weight on her chest as our fingers intertwine. One last indulgence, an open-mouthed kiss on the inside of her wrist to remind her who caters to her wishes. She moans contentedly, letting me know I've done my part to grant them.

The sound vibrates into me as her warm breath floods my neck, causing me enormous difficulty to pry the words I know I need to say from my chest.

Steadfast as ever, I piece together every shred of will I possess to tell her, placing one last chaste kiss to her lips.

"Let's stop here tonight, lovely."

xoXOXox

That wasn't bad at all for my first kissing lesson. Quite enjoyable, really.

Once we stop, I tuck my legs in his Quidditch socks underneath his knees and around his thighs. He's pleasantly warm now, like sitting in front of a fire on a cool evening. He's definitely not a stuffed creature and hot cocoa, but he does the trick to keep me comfortable for the moment, perhaps like hot tea and a bony sort of pillow. I've grown attached to his hair, which has the light softness of a new baby kneazle. I could get used to snuggling with him.

We hold each other for what seems like hours, Draco laying on my chest while he toys with my curls. I suppose they're amusing to him since he doesn't have any of his own to play with. I don't mind. This gives me time to think about all of this new information.

Draco calls me "lovely". I suppose people in our circumstances generally say sweet things like that to each other. I am his lovely, and he is my Draco. It has a nice sound to it.

Although I can't really consider him "my" Draco. He's his own Draco, as I am my own Luna. It would be a bit strange to say I'm my lovely, although I suppose I could.

He told me he cares for me. That seemed rather difficult for him to say, although it's quite obvious. I care for him too. People who don't care about each other don't generally go around making vows to each other and saving one another from death, now do they?

His breaths grow steady and long, so I shake him to consciousness.

"Don't fall asleep, Draco. The wards will catch fire."

xoXOXox

"What did you say?"

"I said the wards will catch fire if you fall asleep."

"Luna..."

"Yes, I know, but it's not the time for that yet. We need burn cream, and possibly a protective ward if your mother will help us."

"Polyjuice?"

"Possibly."

"And a broom?"

"Definitely. Which reminds me, do you think I could try casting with your wand?"

"It's tracked."

"I figured. We'll burn it too."

Bloody fucking Salazar's gods-damned basilisk this is happening.

xoXOXox

_A/N: All hail my wonderful Clawbear, who continually cheers on my madness._

_She has a new fic coming soon you won't want to miss, so make sure you are following SlytherClaw Black and Priestesses of H.I.S.S._

_Many thanks to my Coven - Dash, Claw, Nyxx, Snow, Diva, Jinx and High Preistess Moon - I couldn't cast a Patronus without y'all._

_Stay tuned for more!_

_Vine_


	11. On the Back of the Wind

_A/N: There's a dash of fluff in here to cut the angst._

_Vine _

Tonight we fall asleep together in white sheets. I transfigure a canopy so I'm not forced to wake to the starkness of the day. I ingest only one drop of Dreamless, forgoing the pain potion for sensation and the DOLD for longevity as I relish in her warmth.

The night bleeds into days and weeks. We steal our moments, taking time to cue each other to the progression of our plan. Luna is charged as an assistant in the infirmary, taking on healings which can be accomplished without a wand. This proves to be an advantageous exchange, as she spends the majority of her time in the potionery, and thus I am able to assist. We brew all manner of healing salves and draughts in between the mangled idiots Luna repairs.

We nick a vial here and there from the stores for some time until we have all of the ingredients for Polyjuice. I've always been a competent potioneer under Godfather's tutelage. Before long we have garnered four vials.

xoXOXox

My days are interesting, if repetitive. I awaken in the dark in the morning, put on clothes I don't own or care much for, and march with Draco to heal the injured.

Most of the physical ailments aren't caused by dastardly dealings as I'd expected, but routine training and poor habits.

"You know, the air down there isn't good for the composition," I have Draco translate for me to one of the guards in the dungeons "if you have yourself some gillyweed before starting your rounds you'd end up with much better outcomes."

The guard laughs in my face. I guarantee he'll be surprised and bemoaning his circumstances in a few years. I press on.

By far my most common treatment is recovery from Crucios. Same every time: pain potion, hot liquids, lots of reminders about alcohol poisoning. I don't understand why the powers here break their soldiers only to stitch them back together. It seems like a terrible waste of resources to me. Train them with pleasure, not pain, and you won't be dealing with their increasing weakness and nerves which will never heal from the abuse.

Hardly anyone listens to me.

I suppose it's good on me they are weakened this way, or that's what Draco says to console me at least. When I'm up close with the suffering - when I see the wounded flesh and vacant stares in a person - it's unnervingly difficult to think any good can come of this. I want to fix them all. I desperately desire for this terrible sickness to end.

Nights are much better than days. I crawl into bed with Draco at my side, finding all the little places we fit together nicely. We discover we're the perfect size for me to tuck under his arm, and our legs always find a happy way to tangle. He's put on some weight, making him a soft place to land when I collapse from exhaustion. Narcissa has gifted me a plethora of silks to keep my hair away from his mouth, which I'm thoroughly grateful for. I'll have to get some for myself when we're gone. Sometimes he reads, and occasionally I draw, but distracting ourselves from the atrocity usually ends in a kiss. I'm proud to say our practice has improved my skills in this act exponentially.

Above all, we plan. It's a quiet plotting - the Slytherin variety - with me as strategist and Draco as executor. The two of us make a wildly unstoppable team. We create ideas together, I check them for sanity, then he finds a way to make them happen. The silent and thoughtful way he listens, the look in his eyes when he tells me he thinks it will work, this feels uncannily similar to love.

We're getting so close; it's only a matter of time before we have wind under our brooms to fly free.

xoXOXox

"The gates will open for you, won't they?"

I nod.

"Excellent. Will anyone else be notified?"

"Only my father."

"That may present a challenge."

"Not if I can help it."

Today has been extraordinarily taxing. Aunt Bella has a new string of recruits to torment. Each one of them arrives bloodied and melted at some point, ungratefully depleting our stores of dittany and burn cream. A few will undoubtedly experience an unceremonious demise this week as Aunt Bella weeds out the chaff. One might say I'm relying on such a situation. Personally, I'd rather not think of it as reliance, but more of an expected gift. Aunt Bella carries a predictable sort of madness after all.

She doesn't kill for self-preservation. She doesn't kill for her beliefs. She seldom kills quickly.

It's a sport for her.

Her motivations aren't cunning, or profitable, but purely cruel. She enjoys pain for its own sake. I've determined she only wants to watch the walls burn down around her as she cackles in the destruction. I lament that I'll be granting her a modicum of sadistic pleasure upon my departure. The joy this brings her I never desire to comprehend.

In my nightmares, I can still hear her whispering "Do it, Draco" before the first Avada parts my lips.

This world would unquestionably be a better place without her, but soon she will be my unwilling accomplice. Cheers to your usefulness, Auntie.

Now, we make haste to visit Father in his study. Regrettably, cowards such as he are occasionally to be of use too.

xoXOXox

I've memorized this path during my stay with Draco.

I count the doors along our way.

36… 37… left… 38…

Hiss… hiss… ballroom… 42…

Draco grits his teeth… I tell him to stop breaking his smile... He kisses me... 46… and we're at Lucius's entryway.

The dragons and arrows are far less intimidating these days as we stroll in unannounced.

Lucius is caught off guard. Good. He stands.

"Draco, Ms Lovegood," he greets, I nod "to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

Haha. He thinks our company will be pleasurable.

xoXOXox

"Father," I acknowledge against my will, pulling a chair for Luna to sit with me at his desk. "I have a buyer for one of your artefacts."

Not that he advertised the sale of said artefact to begin with.

"Do tell." He questions

He doesn't say it, and neither do I. We both know the vaults have been running lower and lower since his debasement settled in. Even the Malfoys are hard-pressed to finance an entire war effort without assistance and competent stewardship.

Father was once an excellent businessman, managing our dealings swiftly enough to ensure our legacy would remain comfortably unbothered for generations. Recently, however, Mother has been dipping into the Black vaults to keep the household running. I know the Malfoy Foundation has become nothing but a farce for Mother to ladle money to Aunt Andi under lock and key. Father is ignorant of this fact, however, and thus he won't notice when half a million or so vanishes.

I hope silently Mother and Andi won't suffer for my discretion. Andi is free, and I am not. Somewhere in my depths I know she won't be troubled by a loan to her only nephew. I'll pay her back when we all survive.

"500,000 Galleons." I intone without inflexion. "From Russia. No barriers to export."

"Take what you need, son," he tells me. "Well done."

I roll up our bounty and make haste to depart.

He halts me.

"I've been meaning to ask a question of you."

Fuck.

"What is it?" I force a bored, nonchalant tone.

"Do you plan on wedding Ms Lovegood in the near future? There are certainly many… arrangements to be made once you set the course."

I hate him.

xoXOXox

Marriage? That's a bit of an overstep, wouldn't you say so, Mr Malfoy? It's only been a bit over a month. I just recently learned Draco likes apple streusel for breakfast.

Not that I can tell Lucius that, nor was I asked for an opinion of my life.

Luckily, Draco knows what my opinions are, and shares them with his father for me, albeit in the secret-y Pureblooded code they use. I'm becoming pretty good at reading their language.

"Come now, Father. It would be rather uncivilized to hold a celebration prior to the Dark Lord's victory."

Draco means no. It's too soon, obviously.

"What's uncivilized, son is your improper taste for courting and the uncouth manner you choose to take housing with her like a common miscreant. We are not Weasleys, Draco, and I don't expect you to produce a bastard heir before it can be properly named a Malfoy."

Lucius thinks we're being inappropriate because he doesn't know what love is. He thinks holding each other at night means we plan on having children straight away. Poor Narcissa. He apparently hasn't thought through the idea that his son and I are barely 17. We were only children yesterday.

Fortunately, Draco is much smarter than his father.

xoXOXox

"Grandfather!" I call across the room, because I know how to find allies in the lair of my enemies.

"Draco," he calls back "Come around where I can see you."

I oblige, bringing Luna with me to stand in front of Grandfather's portrait.

"What say you, Grandfather? Do Malfoy's hold weddings amid carnage?" I ask, knowing what the answer will be

"Take a seat son. You too, mute child. Humour an old man with a tale to tell."

It appears I was mistaken.

Luna beats on my chest with her open palm, looking up at me with the visage of snow-covered skies.

"Get chairs for us, Draco. I do so love stories."

xoXOXox

"Many moons ago, when the world was a dark and vile place, there lived a man named Armand Malfoi."

I wish I had a tub of caramel corn. Caramel corn is the best accompaniment to storytime. But I don't, so I listen politely.

Abraxas - Draco's grandad - continues:

"Armand's time was inharmonious. The Muggles persecuted our kind far and wide, burning our villages and stealing our daughters away."

This sounds familiar.

"France, where the Malfois hail from, was the seat of this turmoil. The Muggles were at war with one another, you see; not a soul was spared from their leader's cruel wrath. It was around this time Armand was a young man, much as you are now, Draco, and he began to fall entranced by a witch named Cassandra."

"It was said Cassandra was a kindly sort of witch, restoring the people of the village whose lives had been torn asunder. From what I know of her, she wasn't concerned if they were squib or magic, muggle or creature, Cassandra cared for them all."

Draco rubs circles on my back, pulling me in tightly to kiss the top of my hair.

"Although her portrait was taken from us in a raid some years back, I remember Cassandra to have been stunning. Her hair and eyes were the colour of night, her fair skin shone like the moon. Not unlike your silent paramour, might I add." he remarks, pointing to me.

"You're the cunning sort grandson, and I know the pieces are falling together for you. Armand fell in love with the witch. He sought to give her the life he thought her to deserve, one where she would receive tenfold the graciousness she showed the villagers. He couldn't very well implement his desires in his home in France, so he took up arms to fight with the Muggles."

I can feel Lucius cringe from across the room.

"That's what brought him here, son. War and carnage, death and brutality. He fought across Europe, leading the king to victory until there were no more wars to take away his beloved. That's how we have this estate, you see. It was a reward for his service, and a gift to Cassandra. He constructed the strongest wards in all of Britain to protect her from the chaos which ravaged the world."

Abraxas gets the same hard stare as Draco when he's angry. His mouth becomes a tight line and his nostrils flare out a bit.

"To answer the question you originally posed, no, Malfoys do not hold weddings in the midst of carnage."

Abraxas shoots a pointed glare to his son, tilting his head back to view Lucius down his nose.

"Malfoys will never be subject to the squalor the world forms around us. We conquer the desecration, building our strongholds where we see fit. Malfoys hold celebrations when it suits our sensibilities."

xoXOXox

This is where the nasty bits begin.

"Where do they take the bodies?" she asks flippantly on the walk to our quarters

I haven't a clue, and tell her such.

"We'll have to find out then," she states simply, as if it isn't an impossible feat to roam the halls of the Manor without being questioned

She's become rather adept at reading my expressions. Perhaps she always has been.

My hand sits enveloped in hers as she reassures me with a smile.

"We will." she says, and means it with every beat of her heart

We arrive in our quarters where the plotting never ceases. I don't want to plan tonight. My only desire is to fall into my mind and her arms to reflect on Grandfather's words.

It must have been shocking to her to hear my father's request. Ironic, how only a few years ago I unquestionably signed my life away to the Greengrasses to appease the tradition, not even knowing if I'd marry Daphne or Astoria. I was crushed when they recanted the contract. Now, I've never been so thankful for Lord Greengrass's foresight.

Hearing Grandfather's story has awakened a devious spirit within me. One I know will send me drowning in my occluding room for days on end if I'm not careful to circumvent it. Alas, the spirit must find my mind a comfortable place to stop and torment me, for it asks relentless questions.

I've spent every hour with Luna since she was released to be my charge. I guard her with ferocity. I may have developed the habit of pouring a generous helping of pepper essence into the pain potions of the vermin who dare to laugh at her wisdom.

She's mine.

Or is she?

I said I would never own her. I'm almost certain I couldn't if I tried. Will she even wish to remain in my presence once she is free and reunited with her magic?

Bloody, idiotic hope is a draining thing.

"What's going on in that beautiful mind of yours, Draco?" she asks, taking my face in her hands "Do you want to talk to me?"

Not knowing what to say, I take the words off her lips to swallow them whole. Her musings are generally more effective than mine, anyway.

xoXOXox

A thought has occurred to me, one that's been rolling on and off my mind for days, and might cheer him out of his melancholy.

"I suppose I should be calling you something other than Draco by now, but all the names I've come up with would probably offend you."

He laughs, a true laugh, not the sort that makes me think he might be losing touch.

"And what might you call me, lovely? Let's see; ferret? No, overused…" He taps his chin in a playful mockery of thinking. "How about dragon?"

I scrunch my nose. Dragon is way too harsh and not at all descriptive of his personality. He laughs again.

"You think of something, darling." he says laying back on the pillows with my hands in his.

"I was thinking something like kitten, because you're so soft." I tell him, taking one of my hands to run through his hair. He would make an excellent kitten, or pygmy puff, or fluffy cake.

The laughter makes his face turn red as his eyes go scrunchy around the corners.

"Soft, hmm? Like a kitten." he repeats, rolling his eyes "Or a rabbit, perhaps?"

"Ooh! Bunny!" I exclaim

"No…" he replies

Looking at him this way - with his lips pulled back and his teeth all shining - it gives me another idea entirely.

"Or beautiful," I tell him, because he is. "but that word has a feminine connotation, and I don't know if you'd like that or not."

He must not. He stops smiling. Bugger.

"You think I'm beautiful?" he asks

"Of course," I reply "you are."

He pulls me down to him, crushing our ribs together in his embrace.

"It's going to hurt like the fires of hades when you leave me."

xoXOXox

"Who said anything about leaving you?" she asks, confusion permeating her voice

"My grandfather, and my father, covertly." I respond

"I'm pretty sure they didn't say anything like that…"

"Oh they didn't, but they did." My statement makes sense to me. I know she'll understand, so I go on.

"Would you ever want to spend your life with me, Luna? Once we're out of here, you won't need me anymore…"

She interrupts -

"I don't need you now."

"See? Point made."

"But I want you. Now, that is. I can't see why I wouldn't when we leave."

"Desires change when circumstances do, lovely. You'll have every opportunity to part from me. Why would you want me to stay with you to slow you down?"

She thinks for a moment, and I can see the pixies putting together a message I won't want to hear in her mind.

"Draco, you will only slow me down if you choose to. You're smarter than that. I don't think that's a choice you would make."

It isn't, no.

She continues -

"If you want me to stay, then choose me. If I want you to stay, I'll choose you. As long as we do that it won't hurt if we part because we'll know we chose to do what was best for ourselves and each other."

Merlin, I love pixies.

xoXOXox

"Let's aim for one adventure at a time, kitten." I coax him, ruffling his hair before sitting up straight.

"If you call me that in front of anyone I'll kill you in your sleep."

"But if I'm dead, you can't escape. Vows, remember?"

"Fuck. You're right. I suppose we'll have to do that first, then."

Back to the plan.

"How good are you with a rennervate, kitten?" I ask.

This is fun. I'm a bit concerned with how much I enjoy teasing him.

"Proficient." he says

Good. I have him responding to it now. Endless enjoyment is in my future.

"Very well. How long do you think it will take for Bellatrix to start killing the recruits?" I gag a bit at how easy it is for me to talk about a wasted life, a needless murder.

"One week, at most. Someone always dies the first week."

"We need two, though."

"No more than a week, I assure you."

I don't even want to know how he knows that.

"Okay. A week then. When are we going to tell your mum?"

xoXOXox

_A/N: _

_Credits - _

"_Merlin, I love pixies" was *heavily* inspired [read: shamelessly copied] from Tempest E. Dashon's "Merlin, I love buttons!" If you don't understand this amazingly quotable reference, please go read The Wizard's Pleasure over on Priestesses of H.I.S.S. You could totally thank me with tee-shirts bearing her quote. _

_All hail my girl Devon A. Snow, who always comes through with the thoughtful love and encouragement it takes to make a fairy flutter. Go buy her book on Amazon. Order a fan while you're at it, it will be needed. _

_While we're hailing, the queen of SlytherClaw magic, PheonixDragon111 has kept me sane enough to write this story for you. Not a feat for the weak of heart, I assure you. Follow her into the dark when her new story, Silence, is published._

_Onwards to the adventure!_

_Vine_


	12. His Feet Are Tied

_A/N: Big hugs to Tempest E. Dashon for beta'ing this chapter for me. _

_Vine_

It's been three days since Aunt Bella was charged with training the new wand-fodder. The ticking of the clock bangs holes in my consciousness. Any second could be our chance to depart. It's time to have a luncheon with my mother.

"Mother, come with me." I implore, linking my hand in the crook of her arm as we begin the long walk to the rose gardens

"Where are we going, Draco?" she asks, uncertainty etched in every syllable

"Somewhere much more comfortable to fill ourselves with warm bread. To relieve ourselves from the stench that surrounds us." I respond, casting a sidelong glance her direction

We continue our trek in silence as the minutes stretch themselves into hours.

She pulls my heart clear through my fingers as she stops short near Father's study.

I hold her fast.

"Please, Mother, won't you come with me?" I beg with my eyes, pulling every plea into the vile air between us.

"I've just remembered your father requires my presence." she tells me through the vacant stare of her occlumency shields

I'm shattered. The dust that remains of me continues tenaciously.

"The gardens aren't as beautiful without you in them, Mother."

She pulls me into her arms.

"I love you, Draco. More than all the stars in all the skies."

She never says it first. Circumstances change.

"I love you more, Mother."

I feel my occlumency shields slam to attention, locking me in my cage of defeat.

She whispers in my ear one final confirmation -

"In the morning - when you rise - I'll be with you."

I've never seen my mother cry. As she hurries away with warm tears still welling in her eyes, I'm certain I never will.

xoXOXox

"She's not coming." he tells me through layers of torment

I hate that he hoped for so much when I could have told him it wasn't going to happen. Narcissa wouldn't risk the scrutiny that would fall on us if she tried to leave at our side.

There's nothing I can say to stop the bleeding of his heart, so I sit quietly and hold him while he cries.

xoXOXox

I let my occluding shields melt away as I sob into the darkest hours of the morning. Every time I attempt to silence myself, the abandonment stabs a fresh wound, cutting me open to bleed me dry anew. Luna sits quietly, consoling me in her effortless way as my temples pound and face throbs from the pressure of it.

Is this how she felt when her father was forced away? Weeks past expiry, I realize what a horrid lover I have been.

I hold her too tightly, forcing the steady pounding of her heart to quiet the palpitations inside me.

"Please don't leave me, Luna. You're all I have left to hold me to the earth."

xoXOXox

Now is not the time to tell him he is wrong, although he most certainly is. I'm the least of all things he has to hold onto.

Theo, wherever he left to, may still be alive. Last I heard, Blaise was somewhere in Italy, biding his time in seclusion with his mother. Crabbe and Goyle may be less fortunate, but the Malfoys have a penchant for surviving the worst of accusations somewhat untarnished.

Draco has a bright new future ahead of him.

Unless…

While he is thoroughly distraught, I may as well ask the question that could shake our fates out from under us.

"Why did you have an award available, Draco?"

He looks at me with bloodshot eyes, the redness of turmoil staining his porcelain skin. I force myself not to regret causing this additional pain upon him. I need to know how to get him out of this.

"For the murder of Headmaster Dumbledore." he says

xoXOXox

The smell of elder burning floods up my nostrils once again. The phoenix flames lick holes in my vision as I see the fire the Headmaster has set before me once more.

"Draco, I once knew a boy who made all the wrong decisions…" the elderly wizard taunts

"No!" I silence him "This was not my decision!" My voice echoes from the walls of the astronomy tower, strained and soaked with tears.

I revile this man. More than my father. More than the Dark Lord. Those in my household have the integrity to display their evil outright, while he hides his under cloaks of deceit and shrouds of false concern.

"Avada kadavra!" I shout.

He apparates before my spell can land, forcing me to look him in the eyes as he appears before me.

"This is all your fault!" I yell, pushing him in the chest like a common Muggle. I hope he kills me for the insolence while my wand is down.

He doesn't, and I don't let him speak more pretentious goading to me.

"You were supposed to protect me! To protect all of us! Greatest Wizard of Our Time my arse! Every word from your mouth is a lie!" Another Avada, another apparition.

He's standing on the ledge of the Astronomy Tower, teetering on the precipice of life and death.

Auntie Dearest has arrived, licking her teeth as surely as if they were coated in the Headmaster's blood.

"Do it, Draco…" she whispers, even as the spell flies forth from my wand

"I'm sorry, Draco." he says as he falls to the earth beneath my green light

xoXOXox

Oh, dear. Murder is an offence that generally doesn't sit well in the eyes of the public. Bellatrix likes to gloat, therefore she may testify against him if only by accident of her insanity. Hopefully, she'll die before we get to find out for certain.

He may be able to claim coercion and duress, which are certainly accurate and plausible, but I doubt he will get out of this without a sentence. War crimes are war crimes, regardless if they happened to a person or because of them.

Maybe they won't believe a boy could kill Albus Dumbledore, even unarmed. The fact the Headmaster burned his own wand complicates matters exponentially. Why would he do that?

Hope is slim, but it exists nonetheless.

"Don't worry, Draco. I won't leave you."

xoXOXox

"Don't let them take me, Luna. Don't let the dementors kiss me. My lips are yours alone."

I'm devolving. I can feel the mounting pressure inside my occluding room crack my shields to bursting.

"Let me die in your arms, Luna, not in some wretched cage they throw me in like an animal."

She takes my shoulders roughly as if she can shake me to comprehension.

"I'm not letting you die, Draco. Not by anyone, or by any means. Do you understand?"

She can't promise that.

"On my magic." she says

Well, I suppose she can.

xoXOXox

Tonight is going to be one of those nights Draco screams in his sleep; I can feel it.

Although we need to be more alert than ever in the waking hours, I stand by my theory that he should metabolise the trauma instead of trying to hide it under Dreamless Sleep.

"May I borrow your wand for a moment, kitten?"

He hands it to me straight away. We've made excellent progress in our boundaries with each other during these weeks.

This is my first time trying to cast with it, so it sparkles a little under my touch. It must know I mean it no harm because it lets me cast a projection charm. The stars and moon in a clear night sky are more splendid than I thought I could imagine as they shine down on us from the canopy.

I usually sing him to sleep, but perhaps a bedtime story will do the trick to ease him into the night.

"There you are, Draco." I show him his constellation watching down on us from straight overhead "Your watching over all the world, you know. Way up there, just waiting to spread your wings across the entire sky."

He pulls me on top of him. This is a good sign that it's working.

"You're wrong, you know." he tells me "I only want to spread my wings across the moon."

I use my borrowed wand to tuck the moon under the dragon. If that's where he wants it, there it shall remain.

xoXOXox

I feel like death upon waking. I suppose the feeling is apropos given the endeavours I may very well be undertaking today.

It appears a combination of slicing charms and incendios are on the agenda for training. Luna doesn't take on many healings as the mongrels flow in more damaged than usual. The first one is missing a wand arm, the second is burned beyond recognition. Shielding charms, boys - can't live without them. Swine number three appears before us due to a stunner to the face.

"My duelling partner will be here soon, if he makes it this far." the vermin says through a bloody smile.

This one will be the dangerous sort.

A Snatcher delivers the assumed duelling partner to us still on fire. I absolutely despise these idiots. The healer casts an augamenti, and I know instantly the time is upon us.

"Burn cream, Lovegood." the healer instructs "As much as we have. He's fading fast."

Luna has me levitate litres of burn salve to pour over him. He perishes anyway. I make a show of casting a rennervate to try to revive the dead dueller. He lays silent.

Now is our chance.

The body is levitated to a table inside the potionery. It wouldn't do to give the cretins a glimpse of what fate awaits them. Luna and I ready our positions as a Snatcher is deployed to take it away.

As soon as the Snatcher enters our confines I hit him with a silent stunner followed by a somnium. That should keep him asleep and dazed long enough for me to get the job done. I shove a bottle of whiskey into his hand and stuff him in the storeroom. Easy enough excuse if someone comes to see about the man. Luna leaves first, making a show of needing to go to the ladies room.

"Weak stomach, you see. That last one was vile." she tells the healer

"Go on. No use vomiting on my carpet." the healer dismisses her

I'm right behind as soon as the polyjuice hits and I transfigure my clothing to into the Snatcher's deplorable garments.

Now where to go?

xoXOXox

Draco slips me his wand as soon as we're out of the infirmary. I make my way to the ladies room, leaving the door ajar as I go in. Checking quickly to ensure I'm alone, I take off my shoes and cast a disillusionment charm on myself to follow Draco in the hallway. I make my way to the drawing-room with Draco close ahead. The first person to exit the room appears to be one of the recruits on the way to the infirmary. I sure hope he knows where he's going.

"Imperio" I say softly. His eyes glaze over. "You have orders to dispose of this body."

He begins leading the way into the unknown. We twist and turn down dark corridors deep into the bowels of the Manor to arrive at a room full of runes.

Draco begins retching as the doors to the grave are opened.

xoXOXox

"You were never here. You became lost on the way to the infirmary, and are on your way there now." Luna intones to the soldier

He makes his way out of the abyss and back into potable air without complaint.

It finally makes sense why the Dark Lord chose to return with a body devoid of olfactory senses. As the smell of decay surrounds us, I cannot withhold the bile when it comes pouring out of me. Luna helpfully vanishes the sickness before returning my wand to me. I shrink the body that is burned beyond recognition, along with another that appears to be somewhat fresh. She thankfully remembers the stasis charm as we pocket them to head back to the infirmary. We take off at a jog, as the polyjuice has only half an hour before it wears off.

A few other degenerates find me in the halls, attempting to stall me for a chat.

"Can't. Orders." I quip brusquely, in my best imitation of the Snatcher's tone. He'll be waking up any moment now, hopefully wondering why he decided to get sloshed mid-day in the potionery storeroom.

The polyjuice begins to fade away just as I reach the lavatory. Brilliant. I stay there a moment, waiting for it to wear off as Luna recants her disillusionment charm.

We return to the potionery. The Snatcher is gone.

Fuck.

xoXOXox

Draco and I discover the Snatcher has awakened and left the potionery. Time to think fast.

Draco speaks to the healer.

"Lovegood isn't feeling up to snuff, Zabinski. I think I need to take her for a rest for the remainder of the day."

"Rest? Is that what they're calling it now, Malfoy?" the healer arches an eyebrow at him "It's none of my business where you dip your wand, but you might care to know the two of you were seen leaving the lavatory together only moments ago."

Someone saw us. This. Is. Not. Good.

"You'd do well not to listen to rumours, Zabinski." Draco tells the healer in his best Heir of Malfoy tone "And if I want to ensure my betrothed is well enough while wretching her guts, what concern is it of yours?"

If I didn't know him intimately, it would be extremely concerning how well Draco lies.

"It's no concern of mine, Malfoy. Just thought you'd like to know."

Is that a show of allegiance, or a threat? Slytherins and their implications drive me mad.

"It's appreciated." Draco tells him.

Good. Not a threat then… probably.

"Say, Malfoy, did Maddington get that boy's body out of the corridor? Idiot came out of the potionery sloshed out of his brains after Lovegood left. I didn't even see him come back in."

"I thought I saw him coming in on my way out. Figured the idiot forgot his arse." Draco lies flawlessly. "I'll send word if the body was improperly disposed of."

"Good on you, mate. I don't know where they pull these people from." says the healer, shaking his head

"The sewers, most likely." Draco replies

The healer laughs as Draco forms a sneer.

We have to get out of here. Now.

xoXOXox

We go as quickly as our legs will carry us to our quarters. I'd give my arm for a broom right now. My right arm, specifically.

Having one wand puts us at a sore disadvantage. Soon, it will be zero wands between the two of us. No advantage, then.

It all happens in an instant. We cover ourselves in burn salve. I vanish the jar. Luna opens the windows. I pluck two hairs to transfigure two needles before enlarging the bodies. Wouldn't do to leave my blood anywhere near these death dolls.

We lay them on the bed in a plausible position before injecting them with the polyjuice. I cast a rennervate to get their hearts going for a moment to get it through their systems. All goes according to plan.

As the one who is going to be me begins to change, I notice the Dark Mark isn't present on his arm. I suppose this is a good sign. The mark was only done to me, not a part of me.

Now is not the time to be a poet, Malfoy. I incendio the arm, handing Luna my wand.

"You have to leave those here, Draco." she determines, pointing to my adders. "You never fall asleep with your jewellery on. It'll be suspicious if they aren't in their usual place."

She's correct, per usual. I float them to my wardrobe, kissing goodbye my means of telling friend from foe.

A potion kit is all we'll be carrying with us on our means of escape.

We roll out the magic carpet before climbing on top of the bodies.

"Somnium" she incants

xoXOXox

I hold Draco tighter than ever as the wards detonate around us. Flames are everywhere, licking at our faces as I counter the sleeping spell, cast a disillusionment on us and the carpet in one breath.

"Rennervate, rennervate" I cast at the ground before throwing Draco's wand into the hottest part of the fire.

We climb aboard the carpet with flames on our heels. Burn cream is a magic potion indeed, as the rug refuses to light.

The smell of burning flesh is one I will never be able to erase from my memory. Burning silk has a much more pleasant aroma, so I focus on that. We race onto the balcony, hurriedly shutting the windows before the heat gets to them.

We hang to the edge of the carpet with bated breath as we barrel through the sky. It's faster than any broom I've ever ridden. It takes all four of our hands to control as we race toward the gates. I can hear the windows explode even over the rushing wind.

Amazing. Hopefully, our distraction works well enough no one will hear the gate creak open as we rush to our freedom.

As we approach the gates, they sense Draco's magic, parting just enough for us to jolt through at an angle without smashing into them. I chance a look back to see if they've shut at our departure, but they're only a blur. Malfoy Manor is nothing but a black smudge in the distance as Draco steers us past the clouds and out of sight.

We're free.


	13. The Free Bird Leaps

Our disillusionment charm wears away soon after we top the cloud cover. As much as I crave a moment of celebration, the elation at our plan coming to fruition is somewhat tempered by the uncertainty of being wandless and assumed dead, as well as flying atop a highly-illegal, instantly-recognizable dark artefact. If the speed hadn't been so advantageous in our circumstances, I would have certainly preferred a broom.

As of now, we will need to locate a town, descend, hide, and use what remains of our polyjuice to procure wands in a place neither of us has been to, all while naively hoping no one recognizes us, or robs us of the mode of transportation which happens to cost a small fortune. I dare not hope her Ravenclaw magic will outlast the impossibilities.

Thus, I mentally prepare myself for a tremendous amount of walking.

"Look, Draco," Luna implores, shaking my arm "Isn't it beautiful?"

xoXOXox

I inhale deeply as the first breath of air I've had in months fills me. It takes hold not only in my chest, but head to feet. It emanates from Draco. It surrounds us in the sky above and clouds below.

We're finally free.

The late afternoon sun rays pour out underneath us, painting the silver clouds a tinge of gold along the edges.

"Look, Draco. Isn't it beautiful?"

He quirks his lips a bit, trying unsuccessfully to wipe my hair out of my eyes. I should have thought to bring one of Narcissa's silks to stay back the wind. Not to worry; we'll get one when we land.

We search for a place where the clouds have parted to have a look around. We must be leagues away from the Manor judging by the sheer speed of the carpet, but it's difficult to tell exactly where we are without a wand. Being a bit lost with Draco doesn't feel like being lost at all. We are simply taking the scenic route to wherever it is we end up.

Finally, a gap in the clouds gives way to show us a small town.

Time to get our wands.

xoXOXox

The landing is much rougher than the ascension, plummeting us to the ground as I fight to control our speed. Luna laughs wildly, her untamed hair whipping about our faces as she does absolutely nothing to assist me in controlling the descent.

As we rapidly approach a grove of trees - since I don't wish to die so soon after escaping - I throw all of my weight back to halt our flight. This immediately proves to be a poor decision on my part as we are thrown upside down for a full loop before the wretched thing stalls to float above the trees.

Luna is still laughing.

I am grievously reminded this girl has spent a not-insignificant amount of time in the company of Gryffindors. I must endeavour to break her of such perilous forms of recreation, but not today.

Today I relish in her joy, feeling it as fervently as she does. In this moment, my only wholehearted desire is to keep the wild light in her eyes lit for eternity. I silently wonder if this is how Armand felt for Cassandra.

I must be in love.

xoXOXox

We land the carpet beneath a canopy of rowans; wiggentrees if I'm not mistaken. Rolling it up the muggle way proves challenging, as neither of us has a full stomach and Draco is still shaking from the flight. Somehow we manage, propping it against a fallen log as we set off for the village. It's almost early spring and the snow is melting wherever we are. We'll have to trust it's camouflaged well enough on the forest floor.

Never having been wealthy, and not one to pursue riches, I must admit I'm a bit interested in how much the bag of galleons Draco has in his boot is going to help ease this journey for us. We stuff the coins in my bra and our socks, pressing them against our skin so they don't make a sound. Draco ensures me it won't bode well for us to waltz into a new place with them jingling about.

"We have no idea what we're walking into," he tells me, reminding me several times of his anxiety of being robbed before we get to buy our wands

It's a fair point, I suppose.

We swallow our last two vials of polyjuice, turning into two large, bulky men with gorilla-like shoulders. I now believe Draco's worries are misplaced. He gives me a quick tutorial on how to walk like a man.

"Look natural. Don't sway so much," he says, placing his hand on my hip to steady me. "Shoulder's back and chin up… There you go. Now, whatever you do, don't speak loud enough for anyone to hear."

This unasked-for etiquette lesson brings about another question entirely…

xoXOXox

As expected, Luna and I partake in a treacherous amount of walking on our way to the town. I ought to be thankful the ground here is flat, but as my feet burn atop the galleons I find my gratitude leaves something to be desired.

We arrive on the Muggle side of town, desperately seeking a magical entrance. We have ingested our last vials of polyjuice, giving us until the shops close today to procure our supplies. After what seems like hours spent traipsing wastefully about town, we come across a person in pink and green.

I've never been happier to meet a mudblood.

"Down at the end there, through the canteen on the right." he instructs "It's hard to miss, but if you're blind as a mole, remember if you hit the lavatory you've gone too far."

I thank him and set off for our rewards.

It swiftly appears the two of us are indeed blind as moles, because we arrive at the canteen without a clue of where the entrance is. We waste time tapping all along the heathenishly decorated right side of the wall, attempting futilely not to garner the attention of the muggle patrons. The sun is dipping low now, and if we don't find it soon we will have to chance waiting to arrive at our destination before procuring new wands. That's if we're able to get to our destination at all, seeing as we left our mode of transport woefully unguarded in the forest. Just as I begin to contemplate living out my years as a muggle, the barkeep speaks up.

"Oi, mate. Somethin' I can help ye blokes find?" Brilliant.

"Ah, yes. We're just searching for the loo." Not my best performance to be sure.

The barkeep gestures to a garishly glowing sign above us alongside a thin arrow pointing down a narrow corridor.

My idiocy amazes me.

The sign reads: "On the right"

xoXOXox

We walk straight through the wall at the end of the hallway to arrive in the wizarding township.

I laugh until my ribs ache in this borrowed body. The sheer foolishness of the situation is enough to keep me in stitches, but the tickling of the man's beard sends me giggling all over again.

Draco is not so amused.

"I'm glad you find such entertainment in our misery." he scoffs "Now, would you please assist me in finding the wand shop?"

"Sure thing, kitten." I respond

He stops walking to turn and face me.

"No talking, remember? Especially no lovelies, and no kittens. Not here. We don't need to call unwanted attention to ourselves." he says

I'm not entirely sure why it would attract unwanted attention, aside from my voice is a bit high for a man of this stature, but I trust Draco is better at putting on a show than me.

It's so strange, pretending to be someone I'm not. I have to remind myself not to grab his hand or kiss him. It all seems a bit pointless to me.

We press on, arriving at the wand shop just as the shopkeeper is locking the door.

"Sorry, gentleman. The missus has a roast ready and she'll hex me if I dally. Come back in the morning and I'll be happy to help you find what you're looking for." he tells us through an obviously false smile

Draco barely disguises his voice as he lets his pureblood etiquette spill over.

"Sir, I truly hate to inconvenience you, but we are travelling and need to get on our way tonight. We both know what we need and I'll make it worth your effort if you help us."

I nod because it's a habit at this point.

The shopkeeper eyes Draco like a plate of mutton. I don't care much for this person already. He's a dirty-aura type, and I have the feeling he's going to try to exploit our desperation for a profit.

As he unlocks the door and reopens the shop, I hold Draco fast for a moment.

"I have a game for you, kitten".

xoXOXox

This shop isn't nearly as well-stocked as Ollivander's. Or as well as Ollivander's was, at any rate. It's cramped to claustrophobia. Nearly vacant, dusty shelves enclose us on three sides. The bulk of the wizard I'm portraying doesn't assist my cause in the slightest.

Luna's warned me about the shopkeep, confirming what I already established. I've seen enough filth in my life to recognize his type by now.

I go straight to the heart of the matter. I'd rather not be forced to participate in small talk while the polyjuice runs its course.

"Unicorn and hawthorn."

"And your mate?" he asks as Luna pretends to be enthralled by a painting on the far wall.

Salazar. I don't know what Luna's wand was and can't very well ask her. Excellent preparation, Malfoy.

"Two if you have them." I add

"Same wand, eh? You two must be close."

Oh, he has no idea.

"Brothers." I reply flippantly

Luna makes a terrible show of pretending to cough as she laughs into her robes. It's readily apparent why she wasn't sorted into Slytherin.

The shopkeep shoots her a curious glance as he begins digging through the few boxes available.

"Sorry, mate. I've only one unicorn and hawthorn." he says, handing over the wand. First mistake.

He continues. "I've got a dragon and hawthorn or a unicorn and vine if you think either of you can cast with one of them."

I try the unicorn and vine. It's not ideal. If I had to guess, I would say it isn't unicorn at all, but a hybrid with some lesser material.

"Listen," I tell him with a hint of exasperation "I know you need to be getting home soon, and I hate to waste another person's time. If this is the best you have, I'll pick up a wand at my next stop." I stand and make a show of turning to leave.

"Oh no, Mr… I'm sorry, what did you say your name was? Forgive me, mind's going as age gets the best of me."

Luna's bad habits ensnare me once more as I let the first name that comes to mind fall from my lips.

"Granger"

Fuck. Why, Malfoy? Out of every bleeding name…

"Granger, eh?" The shopkeep questions "Well Mr Granger, had I known you were a man of means, I would have displayed my premium collection."

He unlocks a cabinet behind his counter, pulling out a velvet-lined assortment of wands.

Much better.

Luna stands beside me now, plucking a blonde coloured instrument from the tray.

"Beech and dragon" the shopkeep intones "The only one ever made it's been said. It's a rare wizard indeed who could use it."

Luna flawlessly casts a shrinking charm on the man, returning him to full size a moment later.

"Seems to work." I say flatly

"So I gathered." the shopkeep all but growls, dusting off his cloak. "Well, if you and your brother use the same materials, perhaps you'd like to give one of these rare finds a go for yourself, Mr Granger?"

"I think these will do." I tell him, not wanting to linger here a moment longer.

"Very well then, Mr Granger. The hawthorn is a reasonable twenty galleons."

Luna chokes. That's easily double what it's worth.

"But the beech - being a one of a kind original - is going to cost a bit more, but I'm sure it will be of no consequence to a selective man such as yourself."

"How much?"

"Two thousand."

The game begins.

xoXOXox

We don't even have two thousand galleons on us right now. Without a shrinking charm, it's quite a challenge to carry around vaults full of gold on foot.

"Ah, quite generous of you." Draco intones

"Yes, I believe it'." says the shopkeep with an evil grin

"I knew better than to believe what the townsfolk said about you." Draco replies calmly

"Oh? And what do they say, Mr Granger?"

"They said you were a swindler, and wands aren't even your speciality."

He says it so cooly, in the tone I've learned is a Slytherin threat. I do so enjoy learning new languages.

The shopkeep looks nervous now. I'm proud of Draco. He made the man tremble even without the use of his usual eyes. He's quite adaptive.

Draco continues -

"After seeing your prestigious collection, sir, I must admit my interest is piqued at the more… exclusive options you're said to carry."

The shopkeeper arches his eyebrow at Draco.

"Would you be interested in purchasing one of my more exclusive options, Mr Granger?"

"Not personally, no. But I do have a friend who might be interested in them." Draco stares down at the shopkeeper. "A friend who makes a habit of wearing silver masks and feeding chaff like you to dementors."

Just as the shopkeeper raises his wand, I cast a petrificus totalus his direction. He looks to be a bit stunned.

Draco speaks again -

"Now, I could be persuaded not to call my friend right now, for a price, of course." Draco tells the man in his vanilla and honey voice "Since this beech wand has already been stolen once, I'm sure it wouldn't be too much to ask of a prudent businessman such as yourself to lend it to a forlorn traveller?"

Draco looks at the man as if he's awaiting a response.

"Very well then. It's been a pleasure doing business with you." he says with finality.

The man stares vacantly into the distance as we make off with our wands.

xoXOXox

Lowlife, vile, assumptive swine. The audacity the idiot displayed, fortunately, didn't match his duelling prowess in the slightest.

The time spent toying with the degenerate cost us a leisurely stroll back to our carpet. Now we're forced to take off at a trot as we reach the tree line. It wouldn't do to be caught in an unknown land in our true forms.

As it stands, my shoulders are growing narrower as the jaw of my companion becomes softer. I'd say we have an hour of polyjuice left, at most. We're nearly to the carpet when Luna grabs my arm, halting me in my tracks.

She puts her finger to her borrowed lips. I hear it: slush moving underfoot. We're being followed.

We take off at a run, but we're not fast enough.

I throw up a protection charm as Luna moves to unfurl the carpet. Spells fly at us from between the tree trunks as we make haste to depart.

I've had enough with people assuming they can take what is mine.

I fire an Avada into the dark, hoping it will scare our assailants into retreat. It doesn't, and now we are dodging green lights as they close in on us. I can see the two wizards clearly now as my rueful Fates cackle in the distance.

The thought crosses my mind that at least I will die a free man.

Luna's voice pierces the darkness -

"Touch the trees, kitten!"

xoXOXox

Both of us dive for the wiggenweld trees, knocking our attackers back several metres. This gives me just enough time to grab Draco's arm and drag him on top of the carpet. We rush to take flight, pulling a bit too rough on the tassels as we shoot straight into the sky.

Higher and higher we climb, surpassing the clouds to shoot for the moon as the wind burns my eyes shut. We're gripping the hem of the rug like our lives depend on it, because they do. I force all of my will into a wandless sticking charm for both of us before the darkness takes me.

xoXOXox

I feel suctioned to the rough fabric of the carpet as I fight to control our acceleration. With my body rapidly transforming, it's difficult to manage my equilibrium enough to slow our ascent. I persist nonetheless, steadfastly leaning my changing weight into the front of the carpet. We are tossed about roughly as my mouth is dried and eyes are frozen shut from the pressure of the relentless wind. After my entire worthless life has flashed before my eyes, we finally slow enough for me to attempt to coast on a current.

Every particle of my airways has been ravaged by the cruel wind. After seconds or lifetimes, I can't be certain, I open my eyes.

"Luna," I cough through the dry burn in my throat. "We lived."

She doesn't respond.

"Luna!" My shout comes out a bloody facsimile of my voice.

Still, she lays silent. I can't even move to face her as the carpet holds me to it. My fingers are frozen to the hem, unable to as much as twitch around my wand from the pressure of holding too tightly.

No. No! This can't end now. She can't end like this! Not like Pansy.

"No! You can't die without me!" I force through my abused passages.

Still no response.

_'Stop panicking and think, Malfoy!'_

In a final moment of desperation, an idea comes to me.

With every minuscule fibre of my being, I focus on casting a wandless rennervate. It barely sparks. I can hardly feel my magic leaving me as I incant. I keep casting and casting, over and over again until there is a steady stream of light flowing into her.

I hear her gasp in the silent night.

We lived.

xoXOXox

I awaken with my stiff muscles glued to our carpet. My eyes peek over the edge, looking down at kilometres of open sky below us. I try to scoot back a bit to see Draco, but my body won't budge. Must be the sticking charm. I don't have the energy to cancel it right now, so we'll have to wait until it wears off.

"Dray," cough "Draco?" My voice sounds, and feels, like I've been gargling hot desert sand.

"Yes, lovely?"

He doesn't sound much better.

"We… need…" gasp "...a broom."

xoXOXox

We float in silence forever, stuck in the same position we took flight in. For all I know, we could be sailing past borders or over continents. I can't see anything past purple swirling knots.

It would be an excellent time to hold a conversation if I had one drop of saliva to coat my tongue. It's probably best I don't because my temper would cause said conversation to begin with "What the fuck happened back there?" which would be what Luna refers to as "unproductive".

I've inferred she must have cast some sort of charm to keep us held to the carpet at such a high speed. After not using her magic for months, it's plausible the exertion would have caused her to faint. She did it for us. She did it for me.

As my parched voice rests, I crave to tell her how sorry I am for dragging myself along for this endeavour. If I wouldn't have been here, she never would have gotten hurt.

What would she say?

_'That's an unhelpful thought, Draco.'_

She would be correct, as usual.

The silence is telling, however, as our muscles begin to loosen and we slowly start to reach for each other. Before the night is over, I have her in my arms again.

Feeling I've been smothered in silence long enough, I take advantage of the proximity to whisper to her

"Where are we going, lovely?"

_A/N: I made a few edits to this chapter for clarity. Also, I've noticed there are lots of you reading this story, and I'm so glad you're sticking to it! I would be happy to hear from you in the reviews. If you will, please let me know what things worked for you and didn't._

_Onwards to the adventure!_

_Vine_


	14. Downstream

_A/N: In a basket next to the review box, you will find an assortment of items to throw at me. We have fans, shoes, tomatoes, cursed daggers, etc. _

_Enjoy._

_Vine_

I'm anxious to find out what the plans for our initial settlement will be. We have an idea of the broad perspective, but she has uncharacteristically decided to keep the first step to herself, sharing only the barest details to ensure my cooperation.

_'Friends trust each other. Play along.' _she had said, and I had the feeling - then and now - it would be an unpleasant surprise.

"I don't know exactly where we're going, but I have an idea of who we will be with," she says

I release my hold on her as uncertainty slithers its tendrils into my mind. This is not how I envisioned awakening.

"Only an idea?" I ask

"Yes." she answers "I know we will be with each other, at minimum, but we may have some company."

As I opened my mouth to question further, she places her finger over my lips. Another habit of hers I'll have to break. I hope she knows she is the only person I'll ever allow to silence me again.

"Draco, because I love you, we are going to make this decision together. Please understand if I didn't, I wouldn't ask your opinion. I waited to tell you because I have a feeling that you aren't going to enjoy this much, and your temper gets in the way when you find things unpleasant."

I stare ahead blankly while fighting to catch up with the questions.

How?

Could she have orchestrated this exact moment? Have I underestimated her all along? Why would she manipulate me after the trials we've survived? How can she so flippantly say something that's been eating holes in me since the very beginning? Why does she insist on toying with me like this? Does she love me?

She speaks -

"Did your mind stop working again, kitten?"

xoXOXox

"I… I love you too." he stutters, unhelpfully

Apparently, that's all he could work out of what I gave him.

"I know you do, Draco."

He looks confused. I sigh into the wind, taking time to remind myself not everyone finds obvious facts to be obvious, although I had sorely hoped Draco would by now.

It seems I'll have to untangle the mess of his mind for him again. This tires me sometimes, and yet, I recount the plans we've made together for him to rearrange for himself...again.

"If we run from the country, the foreign Ministry will eventually find us and send us back, which will only cause a world of problems for us. I don't want to hide for my whole life, Draco, and I know you don't either. If we stay in the Muggle world, we won't be able to use our magic until the war ends, and that may be a long time from now. My father's house is probably surrounded by Snatchers, and your family's properties are too risky with your father keyed into the wards."

He seems to be remembering as he nods along in understanding. Good.

"The world thinks we're dead, Draco. We need to be somewhere no one can find us, especially You-Know-Who. I only know two people he hasn't been able to locate… don't you?"

He nods silently. The candles are lighting in his eyes now. I continue -

"I know how you feel about them, Draco but if they're still alive I think they could teach us where to find others and how to stay hidden, which could help us a lot."

His spirits are falling. I see them sinking into his depths to fade into the despair he tries so much to hide. I grasp his hands before we continue this discussion -

"We can stick to the original if you'd like. We'll find a secluded spot and sleep rough for a while. We'll figure out a way to ask your Aunt Andi for help eventually, and if that doesn't work, we'll invent something else."

I try to encourage him, reminding him that there are other ways out. I know how difficult it can be - walking past so many closed doors for so long. I can only imagine how it feels for him to think with only his heart, especially while it's hurting.

"You have to decide for yourself if you need to say no, Draco." I tell him, moving close "I'll be with you wherever the wind carries us."

That must have been too much for him. He's starting to cry.

xoXOXox

Her unfettered honesty makes me love and hate her in one breath. I have never desired to feel so much, but my desecrated occluding room has long since been unable to hold back the tide. She lets me loose from one hell only to drag me into the lair of my enemies, and I allow her to. I don't know who I am anymore.

"If we go, we go together," I tell her in a choked voice.

She smiles, wiping the tears away to take me into her arms.

We take our sleep this way, tangled in one another. After we've had our fill of rest, she awakens with the maddening smile that tells me I will undoubtedly come uncomfortably close to perishing today.

"Are you ready to fly, kitten?"

I don't even attempt to stall the groan that escapes me. No, I am not ready to fly. Once my feet touch the earth I never want to see another bloody magic carpet as long as I live.

"Make it quick," I tell her

"Oh, it will be!" she says through the same infuriating laugh, raising her wand in the air.

"Expecto Patronum!"

As the silver hare shoots forth from her wand, I wonder what memory she used to cast so quickly. The hare sits before us, awaiting instructions. I cast the needed charms and grip the hem of the carpet in preparation.

"Tell Harry we're coming," she says

xoXOXox

My patronus takes off with us on its tail. Patronuses don't bring messages to the dead. That means Harry is alive.

We whip through the wind, my face stinging and eyes burning as my body is compressed beyond belief. I'd love to see Draco's face at the moment. He doesn't seem to appreciate the thrill of the ride as much as I do, and that's ok. Still, his expression must be an amusing one. It's a shame I can't catch a glimpse of it as both of us are required to steer.

We keep our eyes on the rabbit as it bounds through the clouds, which is quite a bit more challenging than expected. Luckily, Draco seems to move right in time before it twists and turns, and I'm only seconds behind as I copy his form. Who would have thought playing Seeker would be such a perfect skill?

After a few moments, the rabbit dives through the clouds and out of sight. We must be getting close. We follow it in a free-fall towards the ground, pressing my heart to my spine as I let out a wail of joy to be caught on the wind.

Draco's going to kill me for this. I smile so hard my cheeks hurt.

xoXOXox

It's like Quidditch, if one were riding an extremely unstable broom, following a snitch carrying a death wish.

An excellent comforter I am, indeed.

We barrel through the sky, descending lower and lower as we approach our perceived destination. Then the blasted thing decides to dive below the clouds. Fuck. We plunge straight down, breaking just in time to throw us back for a loop as the bloody rodent drops through the trees. We descend hastily through the canopy, catching sight of the rabbit as it bounces merrily along its unbothered way. We tilt entirely to one side as to not collide with the myriad tree trunks so helpfully situated in my direct line of vision. If the hare wasn't created out of Luna's pure joy, I would find a way to skin the damn thing for my toils.

We are close to the ground now, slowing a bit as the patronus makes it into a clearing. It bounds into a shabby tent, from inside which an echo of Luna's voice calls -

"Harry, we're coming."

I hear a female voice shriek. "Luna! She's alive!"

Hermione Fucking Granger. Delightful.

"Bloody 'ell! She is!"

...and the Weasel.

The tent flies open as a dirty mop charges forth with wand outstretched. What joy would my malevolent Fates drain from me without the one and only?

"Expecto Patronum!" he shouts, louder than necessary. An ostentatious bloody buck prances forth. Fitting.

"Harry!" Luna cancels her disillusionment charm to run flailing towards him.

"Luna! You're alive!"

Yes, thanks none to you Saint Potter. Way to let a Death Eater save her arse while you're stuck hiding in the squalor.

"I've missed you every day!" she tells him

And now she's in his arms.

xoXOXox

Elation sends my legs bounding from the carpet as soon as I hear Hermione's voice.

"Luna! She's alive!"

I suppose that fact would still be in question, wouldn't it?

"Bloody 'ell! She is!"

I didn't know Ron was with them.

Then I see him. I see him, and my vision goes black along the tree line. He's more sallow and gaunt, his face is dirty and I can hear the strain in his voice, but I can see him, and I can hear him. He's alive. Harry is alive. Harry's alive! I cancel the disillusionment and throw myself into his arms.

"I've missed you every day!" I tell him, because I did. I didn't know if I'd ever get to see the boy who dared to be my friend ever again.

"I...I missed you too, Luna." he stutters, patting my back "I'm so glad you're safe."

Hermione and Ron come around to join the celebrating, encircling us with their arms.

"I'm glad you're safe too, although you don't seem to be entirely healthy. What have you been eating out here?" I ask

"Not much," he responds

"Bugger. We haven't been eating much lately, either."

"We?" he asks, confused

"I did say 'we' in the patronus, didn't I?" I clarify

All three of them immediately draw their wands, facing away from me.

Harry speaks first -

"Hominem revelio!"

"Incarcerous!" Hermione yells in almost the same moment, seconds after Draco's hair starts to shine in the sun.

As he drops bound and helpless to the ground, I realize my mistake. I assumed Harry and Hermione would trust me enough to know I wouldn't put them in danger on purpose. It is now apparent that I was wrong.

"Hermione, that's not any way to treat your friends," I tell her, untying Draco

"Friends?!" she shrieks "You brought a Death Eater right to us! What if he summons his master?"

When did her voice become so piercing? I help Draco to his feet, staring daggers at the witch. She has the unnerving habit of thinking less of people who aren't smart the same way she is. She doesn't realize she's not a better person than he is. Still, she won't speak to him that way in front of me.

"He's a person, not a beast, Hermione. He doesn't have a master." I tell her, firmly

Ron gets in my face, all red and huffing; mostly red though.

"What in Merlin's-gods-damned-salty-bollocks, Luna?"

He always has been crass, and a bit unclear. I think he means well but doesn't know how to articulate himself. I back away from him. Harry's usually the sensible one in these types of situations; perhaps he'll listen to me.

"Harry, you know Draco?" I ask

Harry's chest is heaving and his wand is still out.

"Draco sodding Malfoy. Yes, I know him. Unfortunately." he growls, still glaring Draco's direction

"Come now, Harry. Don't be like that." I tell him, taking Draco's hand. It's cold and covered in sweat. This whole situation is not boding well for his nerves. I go on -

"He's my romantic partner and my friend, and both of us could use your assistance at the moment if you'll please put the wand away."

Draco jerks his hand from mine as if my very touch stings him.

"Like hell, I could," he growls, shrinking the carpet to march away into the forest.

xoXOXox

I don't know where I am or where I'm going; who I am or who I'm going to be. Such is expected of a dead man.

How could I have been such an idiot? I believed her! Her vows and her touches, her reassurances and capabilities. I've risked my lifetimes over again because of her. Confidence is a game for fools.

I try to focus on my walk. Strategize, Malfoy. Think. Planning soothes the ragged edges where my mind shreds apart.

Item one - I mustn't call myself Malfoy. The Heir of the Most Noble House is deceased.

Item two - The scar on my arm must go. I can't risk waiting to be summoned. I doubt I could endure the pain, especially alone.

Item three - Get rid of the wretched flying catastrophe.

I hear footsteps shuffling the snow underfoot. She's following me. I increase my pace knowing she can't keep up with my longer strides. If she gets within firing range I'm likely to do something I won't regret as much as enjoy. No. No, I can't. She won't force me to devolve.

The way she looked at Potter has quelled my appetite completely. Pure adoration. Worship. Love. How she can grant such a look to someone who's done the things he has I never wish to fathom. It's probably the same sadistic penchant that had her carry me into the lion's den outnumbered.

"Draco! Wait!" she calls.

Like hell, I will. I've done enough waiting to last a lifetime. I continue my march into oblivion. Let her chase me until her feet bleed.

From my back, an incantation -

"Petrificus…"

"Silencio!" I shout, putting all the weight of my ire into the spell.

How dare she try to attack me when my back is turned! She's running towards me now. Is it not enough for her to tear me from my family? Humiliate me amongst my enemies? Must she hunt me like an animal as well?

_"He's a person, not a beast, Hermione…"_

Why? Why bring me here to be attacked only to defend me? Perhaps the Mudblood looks at Potter with the same affections. Disgusting.

She grabs my arm, and my docility comes swiftly to an end.

"Don't touch me!" I yell, flinging her to the ground in one reflexive movement. I let the anger radiate outward and the rage engulf me.

"How dare you lay your hands on me after touching him; filthy, vile witch! You let them bind me! Imprison me before I had the chance to speak!"

She scrambles to her feet as I fight the barbarity within me. If there is any skill I have mastered, it's injuring without the use of a wand.

"This is how you repay me, Luna? Falling into the arms of swine? Is this what you do? Flounce about giving doe eyes to any idiot you can connive?" I stare into her eyes. The fear there does nothing to assuage my hate. "Or do you simply have a deplorable fascination with scars?"

Not wishing to fumble on buttons with my trembling fingers, I hastily toss my robes in the melting snow and vanish the shirt. The crisp air will do my burning flesh well.

"Do you see this, Luna?" I ask vehemently, running my finger down the silver line that claims me waist to shoulder. "Do you know who gifted me this elegant decoration?"

She shakes her head no. I move closer now, every word uttered coaxing me forward to beat this message into her airy excuse for a mind.

"Of course you don't. And I suppose you don't know who _stalked_ me, _reviled_ me, turned hoards of others against me, Luna? Suspected my _every _motivation, and wouldn't so much as shake my hand - _for six years_?"

The silencing charm has run its course. She speaks.

"A very cruel person, I suspect."

The irony assaults me.

"Yes, Luna, a very cruel person like you."

xoXOXox

I am so confused.

One moment he agrees to come with me to seek help, the next he runs from me without explanation. And the scar… It looks to have been a nearly fatal wound. It snakes from his shoulder to his waist. He's been sliced in two. I wonder if he was forced to participate in the training that killed Bellatrix's soldiers. That's not the most confounding circumstance though. He says I've been cruel. If anyone should understand cruelty, it's him. Maybe we have different ideas of what the word means. I'll find out soon enough.

"How have I been cruel, Draco?"

He laughs into the sky. This time it's truly terrifying, like he might burst into flames at any moment.

"YOU LET THEM BIND ME!" he bellows, causing the bare tree branches to quake

"Draco, I didn't let Hermione bind you, any more than you let the Snatchers abduct me. Those things happened against our will, and we helped each other as soon as we could."

"I DIDN'T HAVE A CHOICE!"

"And I did?"

"You could have told them I was with you! You could have vouched for me! But no! You were too busy fawning over the bastard who refuses to die!"

He's right.

"You're right." I tell him "I should have. I'm sorry."

He doesn't respond while slipping his shirt back on and throwing his robe over his arm. He doesn't look at me, instead focusing intently on putting each button in its hole. In the silence, a thought occurs to me.

"Were you upset because I hugged Harry?"

His finger slips on the last button, causing the pearly white circle to go flying into the slush, never to be seen again.

He stalks closer until I can feel the heat emanating from his skin. His hands are visibly trembling as he leans into the tree behind me, caging me between his arms. Right here is where I should smell fresh spice and clean mornings, but I don't. Instead, I'm overtaken by burning silk and rough winds and years of lit cigars. Under the dim light of the tree cover his hair's not fluffy and white, but greasy clumps of silver framing him jaggedly. It sets his eyes just a shade more ferocious. This isn't my kitten I'm dealing with, it's a nundu.

"Yes," he says into my neck, staying one of his hands in my hair a touch too roughly. "Do you understand what it does to me, to see someone else hold you? To see you choose him over me?"

To be fair, it's difficult to understand much of anything at the moment, but no; the answer to his question is no. I have a suspicion, but it might prove unproductive, even dangerous to voice it at this moment. I think what it does to him is the same feeling a child gets when a toy is snatched away from them, or when their friends no longer want to play.

"Why don't you tell me, kitten?" I ask, because I want to know for certain what could possibly cause such a horrible transformation of such a beautiful being.

My head snaps back as my hair is pulled roughly from the roots. Suddenly my eyes are wide open as the needles run across my scalp. He pulls the skin of my open throat into his mouth until it stings, only to bite down hard enough to make my voice slip out unwillingly. The pain is cooled for a moment as he takes a deep inhale to speak -

"This… It does this. It makes me crave to remove every shadow of his deplorable hands from your skin; to remind you exactly what my touch feels like so you'll choose me again."

Sounds like jealousy to me.

"This…" he says, bringing my thighs up to rest around his hips as he pins me to the rough tree bark "...is such an exquisite view. Not one I want to share with the likes of Potter. Let it be exclusively for the one you love, Luna. Let this be just for me."

So… People who love each other slightly hurt each other after letting their wrackspurts take over their tempers? Sounds like bollocks to me. There's one other thing he said that sits just beyond the bridge to sound reasoning -

"Draco, do you think because I love you, I can't love anyone else?"

This is no position to hold such an important conversation in. I'm reminded of this as he distractingly runs his burning hot hands up my borrowed shirt and over my stomach.

"Why would you want to, lovely?" he says, fifty gold coins clattering into the silent snow as he lifts my bra above my breasts.

As he begins caressing them one at a time, the duplicity is not lost on me. He loses his mind over one person holding me, but those galleons have probably been touched by thousands of people. Yet, he doesn't mind getting their filth in his mouth.

Ah, well. This feels good, and there will most likely be plenty of time to educate him about best hygiene practices later. He shoves his palm between us where we're connected, gripping and running circles until the bark scraping against my back becomes only a minor annoyance. He speaks to me softly, all the temper and fuming tucked away for the moment to reveal the Draco I like best.

"Do you love me, Luna? Do you want me? Will you choose me?"

I sense this is a plea for permission. Those questions have already been answered, but I humour him nonetheless. Repetition leads to memorization eventually.

"Don't I love you every day, Draco? Don't I chase away your nightmares and bring your wildest dreams to life? Don't I listen? Don't I care for your deepest desires, my love? Isn't it me who finds your smile when you lose it in the dark?"

That wasn't an answer so much as a series of questions, but they will help him find the answers for himself. I continue -

"I'm not in charge of forever, Draco, but I want you right now. I'll choose you today, just like we've chosen each other since the beginning." I run my hands over his shoulders, up his neck, through his hair. His eyes are full of longing, tinged with fear. "Please don't run from me again."

"Never," he replies

xoXOXox

_A/N:_ **_This is important_**

_Does anyone else see how problematic it is that they are having a conversation about him being monogamous and her being poly for the very first time at this point in the story? Can we talk about and appreciate the ridiculous amount of emotional labour Luna is doing for him?_

_Also, can we please PLEASE talk about his terrible intimidation tactics and how Luna should be more concerned for her safety than his feelings?! I mean, who am I to say what she wants and maybe she just wants angry sex but got damn she literally said "it might be dangerous to voice my opinion" which is a red flag for abuse and you should never feel that way with someone who loves you!_

_I wanted to write a problematic story about personal growth and hope because none of us are born knowing the answers, but the point is also for you to learn from their mistakes and not do this shit. I was so sad that so many people in the comments were bashing Luna for not giving Dray her undivided attention and not seeing the terrible situation so I figured I needed to bluntly explain it. Maybe I just needed to write a fluff story instead? Let me know what you think, dear readers._

_Yes, I'm going to fix the relationship dynamic in later chapters, but seriously this chapter is riddled with terrible and desperate decisions that bad relationship dynamics are made of. Not knowing your partner is of a different sexual orientation is a huge oversight and time suck. Don't do what they did! Talk first!_

_Is there anyone reading who is good at weaving morals into stories? If so, I'd like to have a chat with you._

_Let the flames begin!_

_Vine _


	15. Through the Sighing Trees

_A/N: I know I promised angst, and there is a bit here, but Muse said we need one more chapter of character study. She has a giant flyswatter for the cheeky fae, so I have to do as she commands. Also, this chapter is going to make you cringe. Gather your cringe bucket and every drop of your Gryffindor side to come along for the ride._

_Vine_

I had been expecting pain. Ginny described this experience as "burning alive". Then again, I suppose she has probably never literally burned alive, so she wouldn't actually know what that feels like. Maybe she meant it metaphorically. Like a fire inside that can't be extinguished easily. That seems more accurate.

At present, Draco lifts me slowly, but I don't want to go, so I don't.

"Are you alright, my lovely? Did I hurt you?" he asks, concern floating on his soft tone

He doesn't occlude anymore. Not with me. The cold mask has worn away to show me every bit of worry brewing in his mind, so I hurry to set him to rights.

"I'm more than alright, kitten. No, you didn't hurt me in the slightest." I console him

The little bit of sadness growing in his eyes slides down to the tip of his nose. I kiss it away, and it's replaced with relief. The smile he grants me - the one that blooms from his chest and rises into the apples of his cheeks - has me feeling warm all over again.

He's not filling me as he was a moment ago, and I crave to feel more, so I slide back into him. He's all slippery; I move easily. We're not as close as I'd like to be. It's as if we've switched places, or changed sizes. I practice tightening my muscles around him. He groans and blushes pink. I think this specific shade might be my new favourite colour. Although it's an extremely illogical thought, I think I never want to leave this very spot.

"One more time, please?" I ask, creating circles around him with my hips

His smile grows. I'll have to paint a portrait of him one day, and when I do, I would like it to look just like this.

"Easy, lovely; you don't want to outpace yourself. Mustn't have you feeling poor tomorrow," he says, lifting me up and away from him again. I let him, but I don't go quietly. The protest escaping me sounds like a wet kneazle - a bit of a growl, a bit of a whine. He laughs softly as he pulls me down into him.

"I think I'll be fine." I say "In fact, I'm sure of it. There's plenty of snow to ice the soreness that may come. If that doesn't work, we still have a full vial of pain potion."

"Insatiable," he replies, shaking his head at me in mock pity.

He wraps me tightly in his arms, pulling me right up to his waist to situate my thigh over his. The pressure helps calm the ache, if only a bit. He casts a heating charm and covers me in the loose fabric of his cloak, brushing the tangled hair from my face as he prepares to speak. It's telling, I think, that we're naked in the snow-covered wilderness, yet this is the safest I've felt in some time.

"Give us time to rest, my love. I promise you can have your fill of me anytime you like," he says

That's not entirely accurate, seeing as I would like my fill of him now and can't have it, but I don't argue anymore. He seems determined to watch over me, so I let him. The warmth is setting in and my eyelids are growing heavier by the second. Just as I begin to dream of hot cocoa and warm fires, a twig snaps too close for my bliss to continue.

Draco is on his feet in an instant, wand drawn and muscles tensed. As I stumble to ready myself alongside him, I can't help but be tickled at his cat-like reflexes. A vicious kitten he is when he needs to be.

"Potter! Salazar's gods-damned snake are you still there?" he yells

Harry?

I see the reflection of his glasses poking out mutely from behind a tree. Good Circe. This is not going to end well.

Harry speaks -

"Well, I couldn't very well take off running into the forest, Malfoy!"

"I don't see why the bloody hell not!" Draco roars "You didn't have any qualms parading through the woods to spy on me!"

"I wasn't spying!" Harry rebuffs

Draco gives Harry his "I dare you" eyes. The same ones he gave the shopkeeper before taking our wands. His claws are out and his next words are bound to be sharp.

"Oh? And I suppose that wasn't what you were doing at school or in Knockturn either, Potter? We must so serendipitously happen to frequent the same establishments." he says with all the acidic sarcasm he's known for

What is he talking about? Is this what he meant by someone stalking him? Surely, he must be mistaken. Then again, Draco is unusually perceptive. Time will tell.

"I heard shouting, Malfoy! I came to ensure Luna was alright!" Harry is hopeless.

I interject -

"I'm alright. I didn't even bleed. In fact, I was on my way to sleep before you awakened me." Hopefully, that will set his mind at ease about any perceived threats.

"Bleed?! What has he done to you? Expelliar-"

"Silencio!" I incant before he can disarm Draco or end up cursed into finality. I'm not sure which is more likely at this point but I'm not about to run the risk of finding out.

A thoroughly disappointed sigh passes my lips. I've overestimated again. Gryffindors. Why must every word present them with a battle to fight? Draco's cloak flies up around my shoulders and I'm once again surrounded in cosy warmth. Yes, I'll be needing that fill I was promised soon.

"Potter, I wouldn't expect you to know the difference between cries of pain and pleasure, but I dared hope at minimum the Saviour of Wizardkind could get it through his thick skull when a witch doesn't wish to be disturbed by his presence!" Draco yells

I can't defend Harry from that statement. He did awaken me from sleep, and I don't tend to sacrifice my sleep lightly.

Draco continues -

"Bloody hell can I not get one moment of reprieve from your demented, paranoid fantasies of apprehending me during some nefarious deed? I can't even go to the gods-damned lavatory without you attempting to murder me out of spite!"

Murder in the lavatory? I hope this is Draco exaggerating, per usual. Harry probably tripped him or knocked into him while the floor was slick. He always has been a bit clumsy.

The silencing spell on Harry has dampened now, allowing his shouts to come at more of a level tone. Good. I don't enjoy shouting. Not the angry kind, at any rate. His pulsing veins and heavy breathing tell me he is running out of responses.

"That was an accident, Malfoy! I didn't know what the spell was supposed to do!" he yells, opening his palms to the sky

Uh-oh. That was a poor move, Harry. Draco is smiling. All of his gleaming teeth are bared to deliver a killing bite.

"So like the idiot you are, Potter, you decide to experiment with the Dark Sword on your way to the toilet!" he roars "This alone attests to the fate of the wizarding world! We are all doomed to die by the excess of your stupidity!"

Draco bleeds out burgundy hate as Harry's aura flushes gold with guilt and remorse. Did he truly almost kill Draco? With a dark spell? _On accident_?

Draco turns to me, speaking softly -

"Do you believe me now, Luna? These fools can't help us. They're as unhinged as the Death Eaters and twice as insipid. They simply hide their cruelty under cloaks of brashness and call it justice."

Harry says nothing. It's true then.

xoXOXox

If he had two knuts to rub together in that bespeckled head of his I'd end him today. If he wasn't my only hope of seeing the Dark Lord fall to his knees I'd break both of his and make him bow to me this instant.

"Malfoy, I don't mean any harm to you or to Luna. I just wanted to see to it that she was ok. I'll admit to suspecting you, but I never intended to murder you. Now, could you please put some trousers on so we can have this conversation man to man?"

The audacity is astounding. Absolutely fucking unbelievable. He invades my privacy, with my beloved, in the gods-forsaken forest, and somehow has the brass bollocks required to demand me to clothe myself.

"Why? Like what you see, Potter? Is that why you've been hounding me place to place? Fancied yourself a glimpse?"

The scourge of my existence responds -

"I'm actually a bit snow-blind at the moment, Malfoy. When's the last time your milky arse has seen the sun?"

Luna interjects -

"They keep it quite dark in the Manor, Harry. I believe it's meant to feel ominous and foreboding. Also, it's apparent the Malfoys all have a touch of albinism and it's quite beneath your character to poke fun at a disablement."

I love her. Although it's not a disablement, merely an inconvenience, and I'm no longer a Malfoy. Nonetheless, the chagrin on Potter's face is golden as he stumbles to retract himself -

"Luna I wasn't… I didn't… bugger, I'm sorry. Can we all just put on some clothes and have a conversation? There are wolves out here and you'd be much safer under our protection charms."

"I can cast my own damn protection charms, Potter! Not everyone desires to pander to your heroics!"

"Fine. Why are you here then, Malfoy?"

This. This is what does it. The kitten that scratched out the dragon's eyes.

I can feel the snow melting on my burning skin as I stalk closer. This stolen wand is sparking flames. I approach in range for Potter to feel the embers.

"Because unlike you, Potter, some human beings have the decency to locate their friends when they disappear and are assumed dead. Some people dare to cater to the whims of those we love, and much to my disappointment, the one I love seems to deem your life worthy of ensuring."

I turn to Luna.

"He's alive. It's been verified. I'm sure his bushy little pet is quite capable of imprisoning any who seek to trifle with this inane bastard. Can we go now?"

"We can leave in the morning, Draco. We have to eat and sleep, and we really could use Harry's help in finding a safe place to land."

Her rationality amazes me. I hate that she can ground me so while lambasting my enemies. I lament this is her way of keeping me alive, so I'll allow it. Useful little nymph, she is.

"Fine," I say, setting my sights back on Potter. "You help us disappear, and you have my word you'll never have to see my face again."

The scar-faced idiot opens his loud mouth -

"I don't even know what in Merlin's beard you're doing here, Malfoy! Give me one reason I should help you with anything before you tell me what's going on!"

The impudence this one displays! My wand is aimed at his face now. The embers jump eagerly from the end, licking at his collar in their restlessness to consume him alive. I count to ten as I hold fast the spell that will melt his insolent lips into his skull.

The truth - the truth is a rush of wind on a burst of flame, driving me forth even as it destroys me from within.

"Because you're supposed to love her, idiot, and friends don't see friends' freedom as a game."

xoXOXox

"Harry, could you give Draco and me a moment alone, please? We'll come back to the camp before the wolves get us, won't we kitten?"

Draco glares at me. I'll take that as a yes.

"Don't you think I ought to be present for whatever conversation you're going to have with him?" Harry asks

I think about this for a moment, and decide no, he doesn't need to be present, not that I mind if he stays. Still, it's a very thin line to tread when friends are quarrelling, and walking thin lines is not my lot in life.

"I would like to say I don't think you will want to be present for this conversation, but given you were recently caught lurking in the trees, I think it's better if you go unless you get Draco's permission to stay."

Draco responds immediately -

"That means no, get lost, Potter. It shouldn't be an impossible feat given it seems to be your speciality. We'll regrettably come to find your sorry arse - once again - when we're finished."

"Draco, he's not sorry, obviously." I clarify "He didn't even apologise for walking into us unannounced. I think he meant to see what he saw."

I understand Draco meant the other kind of sorry, but I can't very well let him say so to Harry and still expect him to help us. It's beneficial to be underestimated occasionally.

"I… I'm sorry." Harry stutters. "I'll go. Just... please come back to camp before the moon rises. I couldn't take it if you were eaten alive out here."

Oh, I think he could. He's much stronger than he gives himself credit for.

"Thank you, Harry," I say as he wanders off into the forest.

"And please come back wearing trousers!" he calls over his shoulder

"What's the problem, afraid your pet will be envious, Potter?" Draco yells after him

Draco can be so unnerving when he's hurt. Hermione wouldn't envy me for anything. It would be ridiculous, as we're two different people altogether. It would be like telling the sea to envy the sky. Fish don't fly, birds don't swim. That thought isn't so important at the moment, however.

Once Harry's out of sight, I begin the conversation I desperately need to have with Draco.

"Kitten, why is he so red? Is he angry that we stopped?"

"What? Potter?" he intones, disgusted "Probably. Despicable, deviated vermin…"

"No, not him," I say, dropping to my knees on his cloak. "Him."

Draco's eyes widen as he looks at me in bafflement. Confusing him is fun, but relaxing him is infinitely more enjoyable.

"Shh… it's alright." I coax, stroking my new friend gently "I won't leave you."

I take him in my mouth, and he quickly grows back to the size I prefer. It's the perfect size, really. Just a bit above average if statistics are to be believed. But I've learned not to believe anything I can't touch for myself. He tastes unmistakably like toffee.

"Merlin… gods, Luna…" I hear him swallow "Are you sure you want to...do this? I'm…" gasp "fillltthy…" he stammers.

I release my hold on him for the tiniest moment because I'm truly incapable of holding my tongue on matters of ignorance.

"Nonsense." I say, taking a second to lick him clean around the edges "Semen has several magical properties. It lowers blood pressure, causes enhanced elation, and it's good for clarity of the skin." I give myself a nod of approval at my excellent health decisions as I pull him deep into my mouth by his hips. I think of one more thing to tell him as I draw him out again. "Not to mention it can bring forth life, occasionally, although not in this context."

He grips my hair as he pulls me back onto him. With the feel of late winter breeze and remnants of toffee on my lips, I suspect I will have a long, extremely vibrant life ahead of me.

xoXOXox

I've never felt anything like this. The eagerness she shows me, the undying desire to cater to my wishes without ever being asked to do so. Her reciprocity is as strong as her character, as unwavering as her brash honesty. How could I have doubted her? How could I allow myself to forget who has let me loose from my prison? Never again.

She is the one - the only one - who demonstrated for me the possibility of singing while in bondage. In my release, I'll show her what I've accomplished.

"Luna"

I cry out for her over and over again, the melody floating through the trees to land on whatever ears may listen. She has returned to me my power, and I won't let it go to ruin this time. Never again will I take for granted the voice I've allowed to suffocate in silence. I'll use it every day to sing her songs of adoration, to worship the breaker of my chains.

"I love you, Luna."

She drinks me in, takes every drop, and in my emboldened bliss, I dare to wonder if it's I who is relishing the nourishment; if loving her means I'm loving me; if she and I are one. I never want more than this. My only desire is to have her arms around me, to hold onto me for shelter as I preside as protector over the sun and the moon.

_'I'm not in charge of forever, Draco.' _rings in my mind, but I don't allow it to unhinge me this time

I'll choose her every day, every time, until forever happens on its own.

That should be sufficient until the sky falls down around us.

xoXOXox

I find I quite like the sound of my name from Draco's lips as he's coming undone. The lack of breath behind it makes a pleasant sound, like the ringing of bells in the distance.

"Luna, Luna, I love you, Luna..."

If he doesn't know I love him by now, he hasn't been paying attention. Fortunately, Draco always pays attention, so I don't feel the need to stop my practice to respond. It would be a pity to have to speak now when we're enjoying ourselves so. Salted toffee and caramel creme pours from him. I've never been so excited about his penchant for sweets.

I don't have to ask about my progress this time, as he bends down to lift me into his shaking arms. He kisses me fervently, and I taste him and me, toffee and autumn, vanilla and caramel on crisp sour apples. What a delightful dessert we make together.

"Let's get you dressed, lovely." he pants

The growl-whine escapes me again. This time I wasn't even trying. It must be an effect of Draco. He continues -

"If you insist on not clothing yourself we'll be here all night, beautiful. It would be tragic to get interrupted by any more wild beasts."

We laugh together; a rare occurrence I savour.

I cast a few cleaning charms over us as I step back into my borrowed jumper and trousers. I'm so looking forward to wearing items that aren't grey, or navy, or other dull colours. Such drabbery feels so uninspiring. Bright colours and sparkles make me happy.

"Ready?" he asks, taking my hand in his

"Let's go," I say, returning his affection.

As we walk, I notice the bottoms are a bit snugger than before. My hips' sway is more pronounced as he lingers inside me. Maybe the feeling will wear away with time. If not, I suppose I'll get used to carrying him with me wherever I go.

The sun sets lower as we get closer to the camp, casting us in a purple winter glow. I feel protective charms enclose us as we approach the clearing, and the smell of campfire is close at hand.

"Oi," Ron calls "'Bout time you made it back." He's crunching on some kind of crisps beside the fire. "Glad I didn't have to come digging you out. Malfoy would be bloody hard to find in the snow."

Well, his tone has changed dramatically. I'm glad he would offer to look for Draco if he needed to be found. Harry must have talked with him while we were gone.

"Camouflage is a survival skill, Weasel. You might try it in a tomato patch sometime." Draco responds

"Gingers do it like zebras, Malfoy. We stand all together and you can't tell us apart."

This is the first time I've heard Draco laugh at a joke I wasn't telling.

"So much is explained, Weasel," he responds

We sit down by the fire across from Ron, who tosses a bag of crisps for us to share.

"Not much but it's what we have until Harry and 'Mione get back." he quips

"Were you waiting for us?" I ask

"Nah, arm's got the best of me. Can't bloody well go out to hunt without it."

It's then I see it. A deep hole marring his shoulder muscle. Looks like it's been there for a while.

"I can fix that," I say without giving it much thought. Ron gives me a look of scepticism.

"It's a splinch. 'Mione did what she could, dittany and what, but it hasn't been growing back."

"Do you want me to fix it?" I ask, moving around to take a better look at the cut. It's pretty deep, but nothing compared to Bellatrix's slicing hexes. "I've been putting people back together with far worse injuries than this, without a wand. You'll probably want all of your limbs intact to fight You-Know-Who."

"Is it going to hurt?" he asks, wincing

"Most likely," I tell him

"Bloody hell. Lemme have a shot of liquor and it's yours."

Ron goes into the tent, returning with a bottle in his mouth, guzzling decidedly more than a shot of firewhiskey.

"Ahh. There we go. All yours Luna." he says, shaking off the burn of the drink. I begin envisioning the repair as he looks at Draco, reaching out the bottle to him.

"Malfoy?"

Draco takes the bottle, sniffing the tiniest sniff at the opening. I know he's holding in his reaction to the smell. Draco hates dark liquor.

"Don't call me that," he says, turning the bottle up in a show of defiance. He doesn't even flinch as it flows down his throat.

I have a sip for myself while they chat.

"Don't call you Malfoy? Who are you and what have you done with the ferret?" Ron says through a mocking laugh

"Draco will do for the time being." he responds "But the Heir of Malfoy is dead, and he's not resurrecting, so Malfoy won't suit me anymore."

I pour the bottle over Ron's arm while he screams.

xoXOXox

_A/N: Credits - _

_The whole Coven got in on this one. Aside from Claw, whose reviews are not reflected in this chapter. [read: Claw is plotting my murder as we speak. please-don't-let-me-die-thanks]_

_Jinx - That woman is a comedic genius. She came up with "Draco pink" being Luna's favourite colour._

_Diva - "Why is he so red? Is he mad that we stopped?" is a direct quote of her amazingly cringey hilarity. Go show her some love on StephanieMRV_

_Jinx and Moon followed up on that comment with Luna talking to… Inanimate objects._

_Moon had the idea of Luna finding magical properties in ordinary liquids._

_Dash and I both had the idea of making Luna sleepy after this experience. Great minds, I tell ya. Hashtag-Mimsy-is-the-best-elf._

_I think that's everything that made it in, but big shouts out to Snow who was completely savage in her brainstorming. "People do this more than once? Why?" Lord Snow: Destroyer of Hopes and Dreams. _

_If you made it to the end, I love you back._

_Vine_


	16. Of Another Breeze

Ron let's out a stream of colourful expletives. I must say as far as cursing goes, I much prefer Draco's vocabulary. It's leagues more original.

"What in Godric's flaming bollocks Luna!" He yells through the panting.

"I had to kill any lingering infection, Ron. You wouldn't want me to trap some kind of flesh-eating disease into your brand new arm, would you?"

"You could have bloody well given a bloke a heads up!"

"I told you it would most likely hurt."

I tune him out for a moment while Draco stifles a fit of giggles behind a snort. I use his tiny smile to give me the strength to cast the spell I need.

Conjuring is much like drawing - or sculpting rather. It's about creating something out of nothing. I make my imaginings like I remember them from my textbooks: fortuitous, strong, resistant enough to take a blow and come up swinging. I envision all the muscles first; the tiny fibres - tight and strong - knitting together to form the larger parts. Then the longer lines - the tendons, the ligaments, the pieces that will allow it to move. Next, all of the soft connections, the shading, the goo that will protect it from collapse. A smooth layer of fat to cover it; adhesive to keep the skin in place. The hardest part is the skin. It goes on a shade off-clear, just enough to protect the new tissue. I imagine nerves allowing him to feel every sensation, new blood vessels growing to bring nourishment to each part. Ron winces a bit as the feeling comes back to it.

"Try it out." I tell him

He raises his arm, rolls it in circles, nods his head. Good, it works. Now for the fun part.

As snow crunches underfoot in the distance, I pause to look up. By the light of the fire, I can see Hermione and Harry lumbering through the trees, carrying a bucket between the two of them. I suppose that's what happens when you send two Muggleborns into the forest alone, they forget about levitation charms. Maybe they wanted a bit of exercise.

I busy myself with painting Ron's new skin the same creams and browns as the rest of him, keeping in mind the colour change from the blood rush. I splatter light brown specks all along it, mindful to keep to a similar pattern as his other arm. I regrow the hair, crimson and copper, tipped in gold, curved and tapered on the ends. I take my time, getting lost in the work of it, making sure each piece matches the last.

Harry and Hermione approach us, dropping the heavy bucket to slosh onto the cold ground. Hermione rubs her wrist, telling me they got their fill of activity on their fishing excursion. I wave to her, and she waves back. I infer that Draco nodded because she nods in his direction.

"Luna. Malfoy." Harry greets Draco and me

"Oi, don't call him that!" Ron mockingly chastises

Harry squints his eyes in an expression that falls between confused and unnerved. Hopefully, this is a conversation we can have after dinner when everyone is less testy. Apparently, Harry has the same thought, as he begins to prepare the fish they've caught for cooking. Draco gives a stoic "Potter" before going back to sipping firewhiskey and chatting about something boring with Ron. Quidditch, probably, by the sounds of it. The sun goes dark and the wolves begin howling. The smell of fish burning over wood fire reminds me of my hunger. Draco lights a Lumos for me as I put the finishing touches on Ron's arm. Once I'm satisfied my work looks like a believable part of him, I check to ensure it's satisfactory.

"Good as new?" I ask

Ron looks down, rolling his shoulder before throwing a punch in the air.

"Bloody hell witch! It's better than the original!"

He gives me a too-tight hug, and I return the sentiment. I'm glad I was given the first embrace with his new arm. It's something of a reward.

Hermione, who has been watching in interest for some time now, looks at me with the kind of smile you give someone who just shared their last loaf of bread with you.

"What spell did you use for that? I didn't hear you cast at all! That was amazing! Think of all the things we could create!" she pours, elation cracking her face in an ear to ear smile.

I respond -

"My imagination."

This leads us into an in-depth discussion on the particulars of conjuration. She asks an exorbitant amount of questions, most of which are answered similarly.

"You have to break it down into parts, Hermione. Imagine the smallest piece you can think of. Then fit them together. Before long you'll have something you can use."

We start by working together to conjure plates for the fish. She takes to it easily, as I knew she would.

"Can we conjure food this way, or does it fall under Gamp's law?" she asks after she determines the plates to indeed be real, physical objects

"I'm not sure," I respond

Eating transfigured food is incredibly dangerous. I've never tried it with conjured parts, but I don't see why it wouldn't work. A body is made out of food and water after all. I suppose it would be like drinking from an augamenti. She tries it, of course, and we end up with fried potatoes to accompany the fish - or the boys do, at any rate. Hermione and I forgo dinner to spend the next hour creating a mattress for the Trio. Then she conjures one on her own along with a tent for Draco and me.

She sheds her outer robes as we both start to sweat from the exertion of the spells.

"This is fantastic, Luna!" she pants "We won't run out of anything this way!"

She props her hand on her hip as she admires her work inside the tent she created. It's quite a bit more spacious than the one she is sharing with the boys.

"Why don't you, Harry, and Ron take this one?" I ask

She looks at me with wide chocolate eyes and the ghost of a smile on her lips.

"No, it's quite alright. Malfoy's taller." she returns

Harry props open the door to the tent -

"Hey 'Mione, food's getting cold. Nothing worse than burnt fish aside from cold burnt fish." He turns his head to me "The chips were delicious by the way."

His boyish smile isn't the same. Hope blossoms pink in his cheeks, but the light in his green eyes is all but gone. Draco peeks over his shoulder to speak to me.

"Come, lovely." he says, unabashed "You've spent enough magic today to last the week, and we still have a flight to make tomorrow."

Hermione bites her lip in worry as she glances from me to Draco and back.

"Don't you want to stay a bit longer?" she asks, and I know endless questions are swirling around her mind about the situation she undoubtedly did not expect to end up in today

I take her hand in both of mine, staring into her anguished eyes.

"I'll answer you tomorrow Hermione. I promise. Let's eat, okay?"

xoXOXox

Firewhiskey is a brilliant invention. Why was it I didn't prefer the taste again? Oh yes, my Father. Fuck him.

I take another swig from the bottle, musing that it tastes much better this way. The burn is so pleasant, lighting my throat with courage and valour.

"Easy, Draco." the Weasel intones, interrupting my musings "Save some for the rest of us! That's the only bottle we have!"

Yes, boldness flows from me more smoothly than ever with this drink.

"It's alright, Weasel. When Luna and Granger are done with their chat I'm sure you'll have enough to stay sloshed to your heart's desire."

The git-who-refuses-to-shut-up interjects -

"Granger, huh? Not my bushy pet anymore? And Draco?" he eyes the Weasel with a squint of betrayal and ice in his tone "When did you two become so chummy?"

"Ah, come off it mate." the Weasel responds, leaning sloppily on Potter in his inebriated state, "You said he's shagging our mate, that makes him family, yeah?"

The Weasel looks back at me with a goofy grin on his face. He stage whispers to scar-face -

"Who'd have thought we were given the most colouring of the relatives, yeah? We're practically brown against our ghostly cousin over there." he tisks and shakes his head "Poor bastard."

Potter does not seem so amused. Although I probably shouldn't in our delicate situation, the whiskey gets the better of my tongue as I engage in a cherished pastime of mine, one I haven't partaken in for far too long: taunting Potter.

"Right, Potter. I lament to agreeing with the Weasel. We're closer kin than I'd like to admit."

He sneers a borderline snarl. Excellent. I've struck one of his many frail nerves. He spews venom as he retorts

"My father may have been a pureblood, but I'll never be a Malfoy."

"That makes two of us, then." I reply chipperly "Cheers to our relation, Potter. I'll ensure you receive an invitation to the wedding, if you can ensure me you'll wear something suitable and tame that unruly blackbird on your scalp."

The confusion that crosses his features is titillating. Absolutely superb entertainment as the disgust and shock hit him. He does a piss poor job of occluding.

"What? Why?" he stammers

"Why are we related? Should I recount our family trees together, Potter? Or do you not yet understand where children come from?"

The Weasel claps me on the back as I shoot him a triumphant grin. I find I quite prefer him to Crabbe and Goyle, as he's not being paid to indulge in my clever wit, but appreciates it nonetheless.

"I mean, why won't you be a Malfoy? Are you not Draco Malfoy?" He asks incredulously, emphasizing my name. I see his hand twitch around his wand, and subsequently grip my own in preparation.

"Draco Malfoy died two days ago, Potter." I inform him "Nasty bit of fire at the Manor. I've heard a hostage girl burned to death as well." I look directly into his eyes, hoping the two knuts in his empty head can rub together to form a spark at the implication.

"You faked your death?" he asks. Delightful. The idiot isn't quite as simple as he looks.

"Precisely. And Luna's, although I don't expect hers to garner much attention seeing as she was being used as leverage to control the propaganda flowing from the new Ministry, as well as bait to entice a certain saviour. Not that you were actually looking to save her."

The bitter hate from earlier flows back into my chest, tempered only by the warming effect of the whiskey. I go on.

"I'll have to assume you were aware, however, seeing you didn't so much as lift a finger to aid in her rescue."

"I knew that… yes." he replies with a hint of shame.

He stares into the fire for some time, saying nothing. No sooner than I think I've tied his loose tongue do my Fates cuff me on the ear with his response.

"Listen, Malfoy; Draco... I... I'm sorry, I…" his voice is becoming choked "I wanted to rescue her; I wanted to storm the Manor and take down snakeface for myself, but there's a cost to everything and…" a silent tear sparkles as it falls down his cheek "I can't save them all, Malfoy. I have to save us all, and yet I can't save everyone."

If someone had asked me at any point of my existence, earlier today, five minutes ago, if I would find myself feeling miserable for Harry Bleeding Potter, I would have laughed in their face. What does he possess to stoke pity from me? He's a nuisance par excellence, adored and untouchable.

Much to my astonishment, I find there's something in the way he says it which sounds very much like my voice saying _"Mother, won't you come with me?"_. It sounds like Godfather wagering his life to cast an Imperious curse to save Luna. It sounds like Pansy screaming my name as the wolves tear her flesh from her bones. The tears in his eyes hold the reflections of all the people I've failed to save.

I stand to my feet, more unsteadily than I would like.

"Well, Potter, you focus on saving us all, and I'll do my part to save those you have to leave behind. Two is a start, wouldn't you agree?"

I reach my hand to help him to his feet. He stares mutely for a moment before taking it.

"Thank you, Malfoy." he says, that disgusting Gryffindor valiancy shimmering in his overlarge eyes

"Don't call me that." I command "It's Draco."

From now until the stars fall.

I set off with Potter in tow to find my beloved and force her to take her meal. I hadn't completely hashed out the implications of having her and Granger in the same living space. Those two have been gone for hours conjuring this and that, and probably would have forgotten to eat or sleep whilst conversing had I not intervened. The Granger girl is no slouch when it comes to acquiring information, and my lovely is nothing if not curious. By the time I find them, they have created a tent nearly as large as my bed, complete with a mattress for sleeping.

She's all the more beautiful through whiskey and firelight. Her hair sparkles beneath the moon as the orange glow of embers dance wildly in her eyes. I'm fervently attempting to hold onto the thread of conversation as she tells me what she's taught Granger, but my mind keeps wandering to the way her lips wrap around the words, how her sing-song voice floats soothingly to my ears.

"...and I asked her if she wanted the tent she created for her and the boys. I found it odd that she only conjured one mattress for the three of them, but then I thought it quite assumptive of me to suppose they sleep separately. At any rate, she said no because you're taller which was quite gracious of her, and I really think you ought to apologize for calling her names while you were angry."

This sobers me slightly. What Luna heard in the woods this afternoon is nothing compared to the tirades I've lambasted on Granger over the years. While I was angry, no doubt. Angry that her kind stole my family's magic. Angry that she constantly out-performed me in school. Angry that she hardly ever fought back, and when she did, I ran. Ultimately, I was enraged that a mudblood could be twice the wizard I ever was.

Anger is like fuel to a fire, it can create new beginnings, or it can destroy everything in its wake. I find myself in need of a bridge at the moment, one that will lead to allies as I sleep in my enemies' camp.

I stop fast, turning to halt Luna and Granger as they walk side by side. This is the first time I've truly looked at her. She has a soft sort of beauty, not one that comes from endlessly scrutinizing herself over the whims of others. Her eyes are a honeyed sort of brown, with freckles wisped across her nose. She's a bit taller, a bit darker, more round in the hips, but as our shadows parade before us in the firelight, she could have easily been my Luna.

I risk her wrath to reach for her hand. She allows me to take it, so I place a kiss to her knuckles.

"My apologies, Granger."

"For?" she coldly responds

I knew she wouldn't let me out of this easily. I find it enjoyable to be in the company of those who challenge me rather than pander relentlessly. I gather every whiskey-soaked bead of my sensibilities to string together a formidable apology.

"For allowing my envy to dishonour you." I say "I can't reasonably list every offence, or ask you to forgive me for them, but please know I understand your brilliance, and applaud you for it."

She scoffs -

"Envy? For what? Because I made higher marks than you?"

"No." I tell her, although it's a half-truth "It must take an enviable amount of courage to risk your life to keep these two alive as long as you have." She opens her mouth to retort. I speak louder. "Before you argue your point, I've no doubt it was you. Potter would have done something brash to end our kind long ago if not for your prowess, Granger. The whole world owes you a debt of gratitude."

The argument is still there, poised on her lips even as she looks on at me in uncertainty.

"Harry can take care of himself." she says, but the frailty in her speech causes me to think she doesn't believe her own words

"Hmm… That wasn't the point, was it? I'm sorry for using the wrong words to tell you I admire you, Granger. Or some of your traits, at minimum."

Her stare has grown cold, years of pain and rage enveloping it to break the softness of her eyes.

"But you don't envy my blood, do you Malfoy?"

To remember those outside of Luna and I can only see the facade I've built is sobering. I can't contain my laughter. It rolls out to shoot jagged pieces of regret into the night sky before I bury it under my hand. Luna's right about this, it's an unhinged sort of response, to laugh in the face of these emotions. What else should I do? Let my sorrows kill me in earnest?

I return to her eyes, the soft brown marred by toil, hardened by distrust.

"Granger, I've seen enough blood lately to last a lifetime. Enough to fill all the moors in all the country."

I open my palm to her, tracing the scars that are visible even in the dim light. I walk closer to her, getting just in distance to look down at her bushy curls. She stares directly up at me in defiance.

"If you must know - and being the swot you are I know you must - it all looks the same on the ground."

She continues her defiant stare as if she could level me with her gaze alone. I take a step back to give her ire room to breathe.

"Being the pretentious git you are, I'll assume you didn't give willful consent to those gashes on your palm." she says, reaching her hand out to shake mine. I accept her offering, not in the least surprised at the firmness of her grip.

"Hermione Granger, but you can call me Hermione, and if you ever put your lips on me again a bloodied nose will be the least of your problems."

The smile splits my face before my cocksure new ally.

"Draco, just Draco, and you may rest assured I'll keep my mouth otherwise engaged while in your presence."

Luna tugs at my shirt, pulling me down into her.

"Ooh! Can I help?"

xoXOXox

Hermione and I have a go at the fish and chips while the boys continue to get sloshed and talk about nothing of importance. They sit across from us, erupting in laughter every so often. Even Harry cracks a grin now and then at his best friend's foolishness. The fish has quite a charred, smokey taste I enjoy. It cuts the fishiness of it a bit. I look up as I hear my name from across the fire.

"Oi, mate, can you bleeding believe it? Luna and this one! Can you imagine the spawn? Little cotton pouffes with her weirdness and his temper?"

"She's not weird, she's brilliant." Draco interjects

"Yeah yeah, mate you know what I mean. But can't you imagine it? 'No mummy I said the insipid nargles stole my homework! Fed it to the blasted plimpies! My daddy will indeed hear about this!'"

Even Harry laughs at his bizarre show. Ron feeds off the approval.

"And you have to name them something weird; you know Luna will insist." Ron continues "Apple or Blueberry or Exotillius Barnoby."

"Yeah, give them an odd Muggle name like Ronald." Draco slurs

Ron sighs in mock longing, pulling his hands to his heart. "Ah, the highest honour. Ronald Apple…"

A thought must have occurred to him. He looks as serious as a sloshed ginger can. "Say, mate, are you going to take her family name since you're a proper bastard now and not just a right one?"

"Shhh! Shh!" Draco hushes frantically, fumbling to reach for Ron's mouth in his drunkenness. He looks back at me, grinning like the child who's been caught in the biscuits.

"Merlin, Weasel. No wonder you don't have a witch!" he whispers loudly "I just got her to be my girlfriend! Keep talking like that and you'll scare her away!"

"I'll never be scared of you…" I chime in, at the same time Ron begins to bellow in surprise.

"Godric's soggy bollocks mate! You just got her to be your girlfriend and you're already shagging her?"

Harry cuffs him on the back of the head.

"Ron!" He hisses "Must you prove yourself an idiot again and again? We're in mixed company, you know."

Hermione shakes her head as if to say "We're always in mixed company, which in no way dulls Ron's mouth." I give her a nod of solidarity. Ron continues -

"All I'm saying mate is I could have very well saved my galleons on that book I gave you for your birthday. Coulda just asked cousin Drake over here to lend us sad blokes a piece of advice."

Harry rubs the bridge of his nose underneath his glasses, shaking his head, while Draco's voice goes high pitched.

"You bought him a BOOK Weasel? Dear Salazar help us all… And I don't see why you're suddenly concerned Potter, you're the one who told him." Draco gives me what I assume is supposed to be a look of apology, his bright grey eyes bloodshot and dreamy from the liquor. "I'm sorry, love. Your friends are distasteful brutes, and this one," he points forcefully at Harry "has a dangerous penchant for voyeurism paired with a loose tongue." He tries to sneer at Harry, but the acid of it is lost through the slurring. Like a kitten who's had a bit too much catnip.

"Quite alright, he's apologised." I say, dismissing him to return to my nearly finished plate.

"Oi, Draco - how'd you and Luna end up together in the first place? I thought you were seeing the Parkinson girl last I saw you? Seems like a bit of a jump if you catch my drift."

The camp goes silent. No raucous laughter, no snide comments, just firewood burning and wolves far away in the night.

Harry speaks -

"Ron, you've had too much to drink. You need to turn in."

"No, it's fine." Draco says, in a tone implying it is definitely not fine. "I was seeing her for a time, but she was betrothed, and when her father failed a mission…" I can see his Adam's apple bob around the memory "She died. She was murdered, actually. On my front lawn. Thrown to the wolves, if you will."

The silence drags on again as Draco awaits a response. None is forthcoming, and just as I begin to break the darkness, he speaks -

"As you know, Luna was abducted and brought to my home. I'll let you fill in the details on your own time."

"S-sorry." Ron stammers "I didn't know."

"Quite alright, Weasel." Draco says, standing up for a stretch. "As much as it pains me to say this, I think Potter's right. It's about time to call it a night, and what's a night without a few terrors to make it interesting?"

Harry gives a mirthless sort of snort.

"Yeah. Interesting." he says flatly.

"Luna," Draco calls to me "Have you finished your dinner, lovely? Did you get enough to eat?" He walks around, trying to brush away the curls which continually fall in my face. I don't understand why they bother him so, but let him do it to soothe his nerves.

"I did. Ready for bed? It'll be like we're camping." I say with a smile, attempting to cheer him up

"I am." he returns, nearly missing my mouth to pull me into a kiss. He tastes like whiskey, smoke, and seared off regrets.

"You'll have to lead the way, lovely. I'm afraid I'm not much use on my feet at the moment." he says through a lopsided smile

"Maybe if you didn't decide to wear those swanky shoes into the middle of bloody nowhere you'd be a bit more useful. Constant vigilance, Draco." Ron interjects, slapping him on the back so that he nearly falls into me.

"Night, mate. Night, Luna." he says as he wanders off

We say our goodnight wishes to him, Harry, and Hermione as we go off to our tent. He's impressed at the size of it and tells me again and again how brilliant I am for being able to conjure. I get nearly as many "I love yous" and poorly-aimed kisses as I transfigure some pyjamas for him and implore him to lay down. His head hits my chest, and with a muttered "You're my world, you know." he's out.

I'll never be able to sleep.

xoXOXox

I awaken in the dark with a throbbing headache and severe urgency to piss. I don't feel Luna underneath my arm, or tucked into my back, or any of the myriad ways she tends to pin me in place for the night. I light a Lumos, and as expected, she isn't there.

"_Don't panic, Draco. This is the absolute worst place to lose your wits."_

I fling the door to the tent open and see my beloved sitting next to Granger by the fire. My heart can beat again. She's safe. I can hear muffled speech, but I'm not near enough to make out what they're saying at this distance. As I move closer, the muted sounds begin to form words in the darkness.

"So you think it's just a torture spell then?" Luna asks

"Most likely. The problem is going to be finding out what it's attached to. If we cut too deep, it could damage his nervous system or his magical core. If we don't go far enough, the pain will come back every time. I've heard trying to outrun it can drive a person mad, or worse."

"Bugger. So how do we do it, then?"

Granger… Hermione, shakes her head.

"Trial and error will be the surest way." she says

"He won't like that much."

I walk up to them, pulling Luna into my arms from behind. She has the unique ability to sense me, so I don't worry she'll hex me for the affection. I'd like to believe this is due to our closeness and unparalleled bond, but realistically it probably has to do with her aura reading abilities. It's a pleasurable circumstance I find myself in, that she has gifted me with a copious supply of enigmas to keep my mind occupied for the rest of my life.

"Did we wake you?" she asks, her dreamless eyes sparkling in the golden light of the fire

"Not at all." I respond, kissing every tinge of worry from her lips

Hermione looks away, surely blushing.

"Why are you awake then?" Luna asks "You aren't having night terrors are you, kitten?"

Hermione mumbles to herself while commanding a quill to jot down a refill of Dreamless Sleep for Potter.

"No. Just up for the loo. Where is it, by the way?"

Both witches burst into laughter at a joke I was sure no one told.

Hermione speaks

"We're done conjuring for the night Mal… Draco. Pick a tree." she points into the distance "I'd steer clear of that one, it's Ron's."

It takes my mind several moments to catch up to her implication. As soon as I do, I feel heat rush to my face, and I'm certain it's not from the fire.

"Don't mind him, he's modest." Luna consoles her friend as I wander off into the treeline.

Fuck.

xoXOXox


	17. Flightless Bird

As expected, sleep flees from me. There are too many thoughts running amok in my mind for it to rest peacefully. Draco, on the other hand, appears to be sleeping fantastically, curled in my lap, only stirring to lock his arms tighter around my waist. I sneak out from under him, careful not to disturb his rare bout of quiet dreams.

I go over to stare in the fire. Hermione is already here, as I expected she might be. She startles as I approach.

"Oh. Hi, Luna." she gasps, tucking her wand away, embarrassed to have pointed it at me out of reflex.

I sit down beside her, accioing a cup for an augamenti.

"Harry's still screaming then? Or was it you?" I respond

"Him. I don't scream that I know of." she replies "Why? Did Ronald say something?"

"No. I just thought it would be insensitive to ask about Harry and not you."

"Oh. Yeah," she says, hanging her head in a tired sort of way. "We haven't been able to go for supplies in weeks, and Harry ran out of Dreamless two days ago. It's been awful."

"I've been gathering the components but there's no way I'm coming across Standard Ingredient without visiting a potions shop."

A helpful thought occurs to me.

"Do you have an empty vial?"

"Somewhere, probably. Why?" she asks as she digs in her beaded handbag before summoning what I requested

"Accio Dreamless Sleep" I incant, hoping it doesn't hit Draco on the way out of the tent. "Here," I say, reaching for the empty container to pour her half. "I'd give you the lot of it, but Draco needs it on occasion."

Not to make him out like a slosh in front of his new friends, I add in "He's been doing spectacularly well weaning off of it though."

"Was he screaming often, then?" Hermione says with a bit of a wince.

"Oh yes. Still does, from time to time. He was inhaling D.O.L.D. when we first met up."

Hermione's eyes stand out as her mouth gapes wide.

"Drought of Living Death! Inhaling it? Merlin!"

Once she composes herself from the shock I didn't intend to bring, she continues.

"That's quite addictive and incredibly dangerous. How did he stop?"

"Well, as I said, he needs the Dreamless when the worst of it hits him, but I have other methods of getting him to sleep."

"Like what?" she instantly replies. She holds her breath as if the words leapt off her tongue of their own accord, and she now regrets they did.

"I tell him stories sometimes, but mostly I sing to him." I tell her

"Oh," she says, letting out a sigh of relief. "Must be nice. I can't carry a tune in a barrel full of singing moonbabies."

I laugh at the irony. If the barrel had singing moonbabies in it, of course, there would be a tune.

I offer her advice.

"The trick is to find a song that makes you happy or one that's a bit flat. Preferably both." I try to think of a tune she might know the words to that fits the bill for both happy and flat. Some eclectic muggle gentleman was singing one on a corner one day and I took to it, maybe she'll know it.

"Try this," I say, beginning to sing the lulling melody. She starts nodding her head, and by the time we get to the chorus she joins in heartily. She holds a tune quite well.

"See? Not too hard." I tell her. She nods, still not quite sure she did it correctly. She's never quite sure of herself, although she has every right to be, and then some.

We sit in silence for a moment, drinking our water and staring into the fire. Hermione is a completely different person when you take her away from everyone she has to impress. She sincerely believes she has to impress them. So many people are counting on her to keep them alive. She's the thread that stitches their hopes together, and if she breaks, the tapestry comes completely unravelled. She expects herself to do the impossible every day. To be a muggle, and a witch, and the most brilliant person in every room, all while being nice, being pretty, being impossible. When she's away from the pressure, her breaths seem to come a bit easier. Her thoughts aren't the rambling, combative kind she shows the masses, but silent and more concentrated in the darkness. I turn to her, starting the conversation I had promised for tomorrow, as it's probably tomorrow already.

"So, what questions do you have for me, Hermione?" I ask, looking patiently in her soft brown eyes. I fully expect to be here until the sun rises.

She thinks for a moment, staring back at me with pain etched in the creases in her forehead, the wrinkles around her mouth.

"Why?" she states simply, the bitter pangs of incomprehension and hurt ringing through the night.

She wishes to start the puzzle from the end then. I can do that. Let's work backwards.

"He was just as caged as me, Hermione." I tell her, never breaking eye contact. "You should have seen the wards, you would have been impressed. Narcissa is an excellent ward-smith, and she built an entire prison around him in order to keep him safe. Still, it wasn't nearly enough."

She looks up at the sky, and I wonder if she's thinking of her protection charms. I go on -

"While he was in danger, he kept me safe. He could have thrown me in the dungeons with some truly vile sorts, but he didn't. He protected me. Kept me in his own room." Her eyebrows go high at this. "He gave me a bed, a balcony, clothes - so many things…"

I think of Draco's half-cocked plan to request my life as his reward for murder. I know instinctively I can't tell her this. Not yet.

"...and he needed me. He would have died there, and no one would have cared. No one was paying enough attention to make it stop."

I remember his blue lips, his frozen eyes, how different his touch felt then.

"Was it the DOLD?" she asks, once again trying to work the puzzle from the wrong direction.

I sigh into the camp smoke.

"It was everything, Hermione. Apathy eats the heart from the inside. His was barely beating when I found him." I stare deep into her, hoping my next words will cut through the layers of animosity she has for him. "You've seen him on a broom, Hermione. You've seen how the wind whips his hair and how his smile lights the sky. No one can convince me a being so free deserves to be tucked away in a dark box to die forgotten."

She nods, whether in comprehension, or acquiescence, I may never know for certain.

"So you're still planning on leaving tomorrow?" She changes the subject. "Where will you go?"

"I'd like to get to one of the Order houses if they'll have us. It'd be much simpler if I could get that mark off his arm before we leave."

All of the lights in her tired mind come on at the sound of a problem to solve. This is why she's in the predicament she's in. She tries to save the world single-handedly. Although I wish for her that anyone else was capable of doing what she does - to at least help her, assist - with no one volunteering in her stead, I'm glad she carries this burden. Perhaps one day others will look up and try to learn from her, to emulate her work.

"You know, I've been thinking about that too. The war will have to end eventually, and the Death Eaters will need to get rid of their marks. I know it's the darkest sort of magic, do you think it's reversible?"

"I'm not sure about reversible, but I think we could remove it."

"How does he react when summoned?"

I can see in my mind's eye now the beads of sweat forming on his brow. He can't occlude away the pain. It cracks his face in agony. I watch helplessly while the screams die in his throat.

"It hurts. A lot." I say

"All over his body, or only in the arm?" she asks

"All over, but pain spreads. It's his wand arm, they're all on their wand arms. Otherwise, I would have already tried cutting the arm off and conjuring a new one. I don't know if the magic will flow the same through a conjured part, and turning him into a squib would kill him inside."

We continue going down this path until I hear Draco approaching behind us. I would know the sound of his stride anywhere.

He tells us he hasn't been having night terrors, which is a wonderful surprise. Perhaps he had been too sloshed when he fell asleep to dream properly. We all have a laugh at what is surely his first time relieving himself outdoors. I swear the boy has been taught to be modest about the strangest things.

He returns to the tent, and Hermione and I continue chatting about everything plaguing our minds: evil tattoos and flying carpets, places to keep safe and how to hide and when to fight. As the sky begins to blush lilac in the first rays of sunlight, just when I think we might have exhausted the curiosity of Hermione Granger, she forms her lips around a few lingering questions.

"So what about Harry?" she asks, her red eyes peering up at me over the rim of her cup.

"What about him?" I ask

Her face is flushed from the cold, but the look she gives me tells me she's blushing. She's quite the blusher; modest, like Draco.

"Do you… well, have you moved on then?"

I think about this for a moment. Have I moved on? It feels like it. I've definitely moved into a comfortable cadence with Draco, and I don't think about Harry with the same shadow of wanting anymore.

"I'll always care for Harry." I say, watching as her face crumbles to soot with the last of the fire. "However, it's past my time to. I think Draco and I are more suited to caring for each other in a romantic sort of way. Besides, you have been doing a spectacular job of loving him, and so long as he's being loved properly, I'm happy."

All the tension seems to melt out of her face as she wraps me in her arms.

"Thank you." she says, and I feel that she's taken from me more than I was offering. I clarify -

"You didn't need my permission, you know. To love him. You've been doing that every day. You've chosen to stay with him through every step of this terrible adventure, and have taken care of him in more ways than I ever could have, or was able to. I'm hardly the person to tell you what to do with your heart."

She sits up at this, releasing me from her arms to place a hand on my shoulder.

"I never wanted to hurt you, Luna." she tells me, and I see her aura flare in corals and gold.

I smile at this, because although it was a nice intention of hers to want to spare my feelings, I don't think she understands what they are, much less how to spare them.

"Love doesn't hurt us when we do it right." I tell her

She gives a tiny grin at this, then in an instant, her eyes light up with curiosity.

"What is it?" I ask. This time I'm certain she's blushing as her skin turns pink to the collar of her robes, and she gazes toward the ground as if she's dropped something there.

"No, I shouldn't." she says, more to her than to me, like she's convincing herself not to take on another impossibility.

"Just ask."

"No, it's improper, and really none of my concern." she continues to argue, more with herself than with me. I encourage her.

"But you want to know, don't you? Knowledge is not improper, it's what you take from it and how you use it that matters."

This seems to rally her courage, all the lion's bravery gathering at her mouth to sputter out the words

"Do you um… enjoy it? Does it hurt?"

"What? Being in love?"

"Well, yes… and no I suppose. You know, um…"

No, I do not know um, and give her a look I hope tells her such.

"I mean, err..." she leans forward and whispers "sex."

The worry in her eyes is almost too serious to be amusing, but I'm amused nonetheless.

I think about it for a moment, because I want to give her the answer she is truly seeking, not just from my severely limited experience, but one she will be able to use for herself.

"I guess it depends on who you're with, and what you like, and how well you prepare for it together." I say, giving myself an encouraging nod "You're smart, Hermione. Read some books…"

"Oh I have." she interjects "But they're all so different, some are so clinical, and others are simply horrid."

The way she scrunches her nose at the thought reminds me of Narcissa. It kind of hurts, in a vacant sort of way. I must miss Lady Malfoy, I realize. It was nice to have a mum. Even if she was the harsh sort, she cared, and she tried. I make myself return to the conversation at hand.

"Talk to him, or her, or them about what you think, and listen." I continue "That's the best way. Then you probably get more trial than error I suspect."

She laughs at this, so I suppose I've done my job.

"Thanks, Looney." she says

"S'alright, 'Mione."

I stand, making my way back to Draco and my mattress. Realizing I forgot to say goodbye, I call back at her,

"See you in a bit?"

"Yeah," she says "Be ready."

I'm not entirely sure how ready I'll be, but I'll put in a good effort.

As we wander away from each other, I hear her soft tune floating on the breeze.

xoXOXox

On the floor of a tent stranded in the woods, I've had the best night's sleep of my life. The purple glow of the overcast day seeps through the fabric of the tent, illuminating my surroundings without blinding me into submission. I don't quite remember how I ended up in bed, or how I came to be wearing cream cashmere pyjama bottoms. I'll assume Luna dragged my arse away from the fire and put me to sleep in her arms. Luna has returned to her rightful place at my side, keeping me pleasantly warm as she rubs circles over my abdomen. Her curls spill across my chest, covering me in a blanket of golden silk.

I brush them back to reveal her wide eyes, lids heavy with sleep that hasn't come.

"Are you awake, kitten?" she mumbles

I kiss her on the forehead in response. She trails her fingers - light as smoke - down the lines of my stomach, traces the v of my hips, ghosts along my length through the cashmere.

"Please?" she pleads into the morning

I take her face in my palm, rising like vapour into the sky.

"You don't have to ask, lovely." I remind her, taking her hand in mine to grip me through the feeble fabric. "What's mine is yours."

Words I never imagined would part from my lips. For her, I can say it with every breath of conviction in my lungs, for I know beyond a doubt she would never degrade my generosity to fuel any selfish whims. What's mine is hers, because as she rises, so do I.

She tugs at my waistband and I oblige, allowing the smooth fabric to glide down my hips, delivering me into the cool air beneath her warm touch. She strokes me slowly, exploring how I react to each sensation.

"Show me?" she requests

I take my hand over hers, envisioning her delicate body falling like chiffon over mine. I teach her the path to my dissolution that she will surely tread again and again. As I near my release, I control myself, pulling her hand to my mouth to place a kiss there.

"What else would you like me to show you, lovely?" I ask, my voice low and raspy with the desire to please.

"All of your secrets." she replies through a smile.

The dark shadows and long nights have been held in her palm for what seems like ages. She ensnares them, desecrating the black stains on my soul with her luminance. Without them, I can shine down on her earnestly, although my light cannot compare.

I raise myself above her, positioning myself at her entrance with my hand glistening between her folds. I taste the sun rays that have kissed her shoulders, and the cool breezes which caressed her neck in my stead. Every melody that has reached her ears before me is taken on my tongue as I push into her.

She breathes a sigh from days long past and a future far away. It's the sound of stocking feet on a plush rug, golden curls on feather pillows. It's the sound of home. She fits to me as if we were created as one from the beginning; one being who has never known the pains of longing and desertion. Her lips match perfectly to mine as she whines softly into my mouth.

"Draco…" she breathes, her air escaping to be caught in mine "I… I want…" Her moan sends a shower of lights sparkling down my spine as I fully sheath myself in her.

"Want? What is it you want, lovely?" I ask, rising again into wide blue skies "Make a wish."

She responds instantly,

"I want to feel you with me, always."

I'll do everything in my power to grant it.

She places her legs alongside my waist, crossing them around my back to pull me impossibly deeper. I slide on my knees to hold her hips steady during her impatience to sate our desires. Not to worry; we have time, love. Forever will surely come.

I bury inside her again and again, not stopping until she is flush against my hips. Not until she is cast to my form. Until understanding herself means acknowledging my presence within her.

"There, yes!" she wails, digging her hands into her hair to quell the building pressure.

Yes, there, love. There is where my name is written, lest you forget who holds the keys to your safe places.

With an arch of her back so graceful it could have been mist over water, she closes me in her, locking me away as her treasure. With a few final indulgences, I lavish her with my gifts, spending all I have to fill her with something precious to remember me by.

"I love you, Draco." she says whilst gripping my hair and demanding my lips for herself.

But I already knew as much.

xoXOXox

I fall asleep in his arms, falling into vivid, mismatched dreams of writhing black snakes and charred skulls oozing melted puddles of gold. In my dreams, all the clouds have turned to fire smoke as I hold onto him by the wrist. He lies unconscious, his wand hanging limp from his hand as we're chased by a snake-like monster. Not to worry, I know what to do.

I pull Draco into my arms, and he melts into me. I absorb him, and we stand as one before the assailant.

My voice and his, the sound of thunder and lightning roars from our lips as the monster approaches.

"Avada Kadavra"

I awake with a start as the green light shatters. Draco, the real one, not the one from my dreams, shushes me and runs his hands over my hair. Why he thinks being quiet when I'm upset is going to help is beyond me.

"It's okay, lovely. It was only a dream. You're here, safe with me." he says

That does make me feel a touch more stable, but only for a breath. Today is not the day for his consolation. Today he will be the one who needs a soft touch on his face and sweet words to placate him.

"You brought your folding blade, didn't you kitten?"

His face falls, although I can see him trying to stay it.

"I did." he says stoically

"Will you take it to Hermione, please?"

He nods and goes to search our potions pouch. He saunters off to find her without so much as a question of why. It's a dangerous amount of trust he gives me. One I hope I can prove worthy of.

My heart beats hard against my chest as I think of it, the weight of responsibility crashing into me like a sack of stones. I've healed so many, patched many open wounds, but I've never inflicted them on someone I love. It's different, somehow, sending a powerful spell against someone else's love. Against someone who means to hurt me. I console myself with the idea that he will be much better off for this bit of agony. If we succeed, it will be the last time he has to experience the pain. The alternative… well, I'm not even sure what it is. That's truly the unsettling part. It couldn't be worse than whatever Dark Sword Harry sliced him with, could it?

It could, yes, and it could be all my doing.

Worrying is not going to save us. I transfigure myself a soft green dress, the colour of life. Next, deep plum leggings and an open jumper that feels more like a blanket. May magic be with us. I charm small white flowers all along the stitching, swirling patterns of daisies open and closing in the light. I create a larger one, tucking it behind my ear before tangling my hair atop my head with my wand to hold it in place. There. I feel like myself again. Myself who would never let Draco die, on my magic.

xoXOXox

I don't so much as transfigure my clothing in haste to do her bidding. I slide my feet into the house slippers she's created from my shoes and set off for Granger. Hermione. Her name is Hermione.

The weight of the blade in my hand is nothing compared to the heaviness I could see in her heart as I left. Whatever they're planning, it's not going to be pleasant. I trust she will give me all of the details when the time is right, because for once in my life I have someone who isn't afraid of the truth.

I find Grange… Hermione. Hermione, Hermione, Hermione, by the fire. She has the Weasel burning something barely edible over it while she has her head buried in an enormous book on her lap.

"Grand rising." I greet. The gentility that's been ingrained in me won't vanish with my family name.

"Fancy!" the Weasel calls, mock appraising my sleepwear. "You skin a stuffed creature for those mate?"

"Fuck off, Weasel." I call back. He's not why I'm here.

"Hermione," I implore, but she doesn't so much as glance in my direction. Whether or not she ignores me deliberately is not my concern. I have a parcel to deliver.

I slip the closed blade between her nose and the words. She finally looks up.

"Oh! Thanks, Mal… Draco. I don't know if we'll be needing it, but it might come in handy." She mumbles to herself, opening the blade to examine it.

"Any charms on it I need to be aware of?" she asks, looking at me.

"Only a standard summoning protection. It's goblin wrought."

"Perfect." she states, and again it seems to be more a confirmation to herself.

She levitates the blade over the fire, musing about goblin blades taking a long while to heat up.

As I turn to leave, she calls to me.

"Hey Draco, can you tell Luna we're going to start after breakfast? You probably won't want to eat until later though."

The relentless desire to question her boils inside me. I resist. Luna will tell me when it's time. I trust her. I do.

"Do I look like a bloody owl?" I return

She appraises me for a split second, an evil grin making itself present.

"A bit, actually." she says "Can you swivel your head? It would complete the effect."

I give her a two-fingered salute on my way out in lieu of verbal sparring. My mission completed, I have to make it back to my lovely.

"Oi, someone hasn't had his tea. Do you think he'll expect it in a gold cup? Can you conjure one?" I hear the Weasel taunt from behind me.

"Coffee." I call back, setting off to find my love and those awful, malicious Fates.

xoXOXox

"We need a Healer, Luna. We are in no way qualified for this. There are so many things that could go wrong…"

I place my hand on Hermione's arm. Now is not the time for her to doubt herself, even if it's a strong argument.

"We do. It would be excellent if we could walk into St. Mungo's and ask them to help, but I have the feeling they won't take kindly to looking at that mark, much less touching it. We believe it's just a torture spell and some kind of portus, but who's to say they would even take the risk? And they won't think it's an emergency, so we'll have to pay the healers. We only have so many galleons to live on for who knows how long. Not to mention it would completely destroy our protection against He Who Shall Not Be Named if they find out who Draco is."

It's so hard for people to accept facts when it's not what they want to hear. I trust the girl who once thought she was a muggle might be able to stretch her faith a bit in the face of such sour odds.

"We're in this together." I tell her, because it's the only accurate statement I can make to bring her a bit of comfort.

She nods her head and pulls the blade out of the fire.

I pour our last vial of pain potion down Draco's throat, giving him a kiss for luck before casting a silencing charm over him. I think all the happy thoughts I can as she tries to find the perfect positioning for her hand to both not touch the mark and make the right incision.

Draco will be free. He will never be summoned again. We won't have to worry about him accidentally touching the mark. He won't have to wear long sleeves or glamour himself. He'll never have to remember he was once thought of as an object to be owned.

He crushes my hand in his grip as Hermione places the blade to his skin, just a hair alongside the vile skull. His face bursts a bright red as he screams behind the silencing charm. His skin doesn't break.

Hermione mutters what I take to be a muggle curse-word under her breath as she tries another spot, farther away from the mark. No luck.

"Can you cancel the silencing charm Luna?" She asks me, determination set in every feature. I do as requested, and hear him struggling to control his airflow from the pain and the screams. She looks to Draco.

"Do you trust me?" she asks him

"No, Granger. I bloody well let every witch who despises me take a hot knife to my flesh! Do what you need to and for the love of Merlin be quick about it!"

"You'd be harder to despise if you weren't such a prat, you know." she says, summoning more equipment from the tent.

It's then I see it, bright white steel, rubies glinting under the cloud cover. Of course, they would have it.

"How'd you get it?" I ask

"Long story." she says

"This is my wand arm, Granger…" Draco pleads, going white as a ghost.

"I know, that's why you're going to do this." she instructs, stamping the hilt of the sword into the ground clean up to the blade.

She clenches her fist and asks him to do the same.

"See this?" she asks, pointing to the sinewy bits of tendon in his wrist. He nods. "This is what we are trying not to cut. If you stop being able to feel your fingers, you've gone too deep. Understand?"

A resolution I've never before seen crosses his face. His aura flares the brightest blue, licks of white-hot flame surrounding his feet.

"Alright." He says. "You'll guide me?"

She nods, and I replace the silencing charm.

Black smoke pours from his arm as the tip of the sword goes in, but it goes in nonetheless. It's working. He moves quickly, the same way he used to open his wards. Sweat drips down his face as his veins bulge beneath the skin. As he gets to the end of the skull he starts shaking violently, requiring me to brace him around the waist while Hermione leads the blade over the snake.

With a final cry of pure agony that wrenches from his soul to bleed into the sky, the silencing charm breaks, and the mark disappears into a cloud of wretched greyness.

The edges of the wound are clean, the blood stayed back by the unfathomable magic before us.

I vanish his outer clothes as he collapses into the snow, his chest rising and falling voraciously. I give him a moment to enjoy the chill before I set him on fire again with what remains of the whiskey. I pour carefully, leaving just a swallow to for him to drink while I conjure his flesh back into place. His skin isn't nearly as difficult to imagine as Ron's. His, after all, looks very similar to mine.

I'm finished in no time. All that's left is something firm and strong, smooth as silk, a shade off-pink from the blue blood flowing underneath.

His breathing levels as the firewhiskey takes hold and the pain subsides. The pride I feel isn't mine, but his. He's cut his own chains, broken them off of his very soul.

"You did fantastically kitten." I tell him, stroking his sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes. I want him to see me, to find me here in his release.

"You were great." He chokes around his strained vocal cords.

Hermione brings him a cup of water, her trembling hands causing the liquid within to quiver and ripple.

I help him sit up, and to my surprise, he refuses the water, pulling Hermione down into his arms.

"I owe you my life." he tells her.

"Nonsense." She replies in a shocked whisper "Any decent person would have done the same."

"No." he says, shaking his head to water her hair with his tears.

She hugs him back tentatively, awkwardly patting his back in an effort to get him to let her go.

I continue stroking his hair, trailing kisses down his back now cold from the snow, grateful for the people who care.

"Thank you Hermione." I tell her "If he owes you his life, I'll owe you my heart. It's not much, but it's what I have."

She pulls one arm away from Draco, enveloping me in it.

"It's more than enough." she says through her tear choked voice.

We stay that way for a while, them crying into each other and all of us running circles on each other's backs. Ron and Harry stare on silently, not risking Hermione's wrath to break us apart. She releases us, standing up to levitate the sword out of the ground. She slings it over her shoulder and reaches in the pocket of her muggle blue jeans. She pulls out Draco's folding blade to hand it back to him.

"Keep it." he says "I won't be needing it, and you can pull a handsome price for it with the right buyer."

She examines it, seeming to weigh his offer.

"I don't think I'll sell it." She says, slipping it back in her pocket. "Never know when a knife might be useful."

I laugh out loud at this as she saunters away, the ruby hilted sword glinting on her back finally granting her the air of the warrior she is.

xoXOXox

"Would you like a new tattoo to replace the old one? You can pick what you like now, you know."

This is all too surreal. My arm looks brand new, like a fresh blank beginning. I'm still trembling from the pain and the cold. Choosing a new decoration, one of her creation, is what little I can do to supplicate myself for the agony I've brought upon me. My Fates won't mark me, nor any vile master. Not even truly my beloved, but me alone.

"Yes. I think I'd like that." I tell her.

"Make a wish love." She says, raising the beech wand to do my bidding by her skilled hand.

"Give me a moon, wrapped in daisies." I instruct "With a star overhead. Make them as bright as you can, I want them to shine in the dark."

xoXOXox

_A/N: This chapter name is not from Caged Bird, but the title of a song by Iron and Wine that I could in no way weave into this chapter without it being complete crack. I do however think it describes Harry and Hermione's relationship perfectly, and would implore you to give it a listen if you are sort of obsessive. _

_Big hugs for Tempest E. Dashon, Designer of Enigmas, Unraveler of the Fae. Please, go read Fallen Angel if you crave the blessing of brokenness, the bitter consolation of finding love without hope. _

_As always, thanks for joining us on this adventure._

_Vine _


	18. To Claim the Sky

_A/N: All hail Queen Nyxx, aka PheonixDragon111 for being a generally awesome human and taking time out of her day to beta this chapter. She has some exciting and sizzling fics coming up. Do yourself the favour of showing her page some love._

_Vine_

Luna raises her wand to cover me in swirling colours and lights. No sensations of this world get past her concentrated stare as single-minded focus takes over. I know at this moment there is nothing for her but her and me, moon and stars - perfection in the making. As she works, I take the drink Hermione has given me. I've had crystal waters from the highest springs, but none has ever tasted like this. It's the coldest, cleanest bout of refreshment, rolling over my ashen tongue to transform it into lush green valleys. As it glides down my throat to renew my parchedness, I realize what a delicious additive thirst is.

It takes her no time at all to create her masterpiece. The finished product is breathtaking, no less than I expected. A crescent moon shines over a deep blue night with the most brilliant pearlescence. Not one shade is spared in its glory. The piercing white breaks into light blues and soft lilacs; the shadows so deep purple they are hardly off-black. They blend spectacularly together, causing the moon to appear as if it's floating above my skin. Entwined around it is a string of daisies so realistic they appear to breathe, their thick forest-green vine pulsing as the flowers open and bloom before me. Finally, the piece de resistance: a single crowning star glows so voraciously bright white it's nearly blue. It will undoubtedly have to be dimmed for me to sleep.

"Watch this," she says through a faraway smile as she taps her wand to my wrist.

In the crook of the moon appears a magnificent woman, bare and unashamed, golden curls fluttering in the breeze as she gazes wistfully at the star above. The star explodes into a burst of silver fireworks crafted from the fabric of heaven. A dragon made of the same pure luminosity unfurls itself, breathing a vibrant flame of blue and white to curl around my arm as it spreads its massive wings to encompass the moon.

I smile back at her, pulling her down into the snow with me to pin her arms above her head. I thank her with a kiss so unrepentant, so wild and uninhibited, I must have stolen it from her soul as she slept. I lean all my weight into her wrists, steadying myself where our hips collide. I roll them together as her breasts grow taut underneath me from the cold and she breathes her acquiescence into my mouth. I slide my tongue alongside hers, getting lost in the lightness of it, allowing myself to be whisked away into an airy puff of mist. Her lips barely wisp along mine, almost unfathomable in their gentleness. The sensation sends a shower of stars down upon me to light my path.

"You like it, then?" she says through a caught breath on a tinkling laugh.

"I adore it, almost as much as the witch who created it for me," I say, panting. As I help her to her feet, I resolve to cherish them both for all my days and nights.

With the efficiency of a practised artisan, she places the beech wand in her non-wand hand, waving it over herself as if she hadn't just achieved the impossible. A silver kitten appears in the same place on her as my adornment is on me, it's fur reflecting the light like it's made out of glass. She taps her wand to her arm and the kitten rolls onto it's back, seeming to play with a ball of string that's invisible to the world. In a burst of fire, the same brilliant starry dragon appears in its place, bellowing blue flames clear to the tips of her fingers. Mine gives a silent roar of satisfaction, sending violet smoke to engulf the scene in its entirety before returning to the single star of its birth.

The sentiment is overwhelming. My recently dried tears return to wash away the lingering pain of the blade as I speak.

"I love you, you know," I tell her.

"I do," she replies.

xoXOXox

With the sun high overhead, we gather around the dying fire one final time. We need a solid plan and a safe place to land. It's time for one last conversation.

Harry and I arrive first as Draco bathes in the nearby stream to relieve himself of the sweat. Hermione and Ron must be having a private conversation judging by the buzzing in my ears emanating from a Muffliato charm.

"Hello, Harry." I greet, sitting down beside him as he sips his lukewarm tea.

He looks as haggard as can be. Dark shadows give him a ghastly, emaciated look around the eyes, and his wide, empty stare tells me his mind is either deep in thought or entirely blank.

"Hi, Luna." he says, his voice gravelly, presumably from his poor quality of sleep last night.

"Hermione says you're out of Dreamless." I remark "I can brew you some of the other draught before we go if you like."

"Ah, I don't want to put you out, Luna." he responds flatly "It's quite nice of you to offer though." is added as an afterthought.

"I know it tastes like vomit, but at least it will keep you from waking Hermione with your screaming." I say

I see him stifle a coughing fit as his tea takes the wrong path down his throat.

"Yeah." he chokes out "Yeah, you're right. Sure, if it's not too much trouble, I'll take some." he relents.

He summons a few herbs from their stores, which I place into a cauldron of water over the smouldering logs.

Harry's always so easy to talk to, so ready to listen. I can say anything and he tries in earnest not to look stunned. Although reality insists this could certainly be the last time we see each other on the upside of the soil, I know beyond hope my heart will demand me to miss him all over again.

Draco comes to join us by the fire, slinking so close beside me he's nearly in my lap. Hermione and Ron join a few moments later, her exuding irritation as he seems acutely interested in his shoes or something else on the ground. I suppose he's trying to hide his expressions without knowing how to occlude.

"Alright," Harry announces affirmatively once we've all gathered up "You two need a place to hide. What can I do to help?"

"Can you get us in an Order safehouse?" I ask

"Maybe." he responds, running his thumb and forefinger over the shadows beneath his eyes. "There aren't many left. Bill and Fleur's was recently attacked, and quite a few of our lot have gone into hiding."

Draco speaks up, frail hope quivering in his voice -

"What about my aunt, Andromeda Tonks? Is she under their protection?"

"I believe so." says Harry "One way to find out."

He pulls a gold coin from his pocket, enchanting it with the password "Wolf". A moment later, the word "Here" appears on the coin. Harry enchants it with

"Wards good?" and "Yes" is replied almost instantly. Harry looks up at Draco.

"What's your patronus?"

Draco fumbles -

"I don't know. I've never cast one."

"Well, that's thoroughly unhelpful," Harry replies frustratedly. "Is there anything your cousin might know about you to prove your identity?"

Draco thinks for a moment before shaking his head.

"I haven't seen her since I was a toddler." he says "I doubt she'll recognize me at all."

Harry sighs. "Sending hare and dragon." he writes on the coin.

"Alive?" is written back.

"Yes" is the final note of conversation.

Draco pulls five galleons out of his sock, muttering an incantation over them before handing one to each of us.

"Here," he says, turning to Harry. "In case you need to leave someone behind." Harry seems to understand whatever Draco's on about, and nods solemnly.

"I'll get 'Mione to link these up with the others." he says, taking on his "leader of the lion's pack" persona. Draco isn't the only one who can switch his personality on and off at whim it would seem. "There are a few things you'll need to know if you'll be staying at your aunt's house. For one, she looks bloody well like Bellatrix." He shakes his head, seemingly to dismiss the awful picture in his mind.

"I know what my aunt looks like, Potter," Draco replies in exasperation

"Right," Harry replies, still trying to rid himself of the visual bothering him. "Second, you can't move about at night. There's a caterwauling charm over all of the streets and Snatchers will arrive if you're out past nightfall. Apparition may be tracked as well, but we don't know for sure."

We nod and wait for him to speak.

"Hermione, is there anything I'm forgetting?" he asks

She chimes in -

"There is a taboo on You-Know-Who's name, so don't say the V-word. If you need to move for any reason, Tonks should have information about where you can go. Speaking of..." she says, digging into her beaded handbag "Accio Order Map" she incants. An accordion-folded parchment lands in her hand. "Gemino" she says, then hands the copy to us.

"Which Tonks?" Draco asks, taking the map from her hand.

"Nymphadora. Your cousin." she clarifies "She's living with your aunt at the moment. That map will only become visible with the password from the coin, so make sure you stay up to date with it. The most recent one is 'undivided'."

The word 'why' is written as clear as daylight on Draco's face, but his modesty or Slytherinities won't let him say it, so I do.

"Why is Tonks at her mum's?" I ask

Ron answers, granting us the first upward turn of his head with an ear to ear smile -

"She's up the duff! Harry's going to be a godfather!" He slaps Harry on the back, causing a bit of his tea to spill over the rim. Harry gives a tired grin from the corner of his mouth as if the recollection was just strong enough to barely raise his lips.

"Yeah," Harry says to Draco "You're going to have a little cousin. Try not to corrupt the baby, will you? It will be too much work for me to un-Malfoy the kid."

"I'll keep that in mind, Potter." Draco returns with a knowing grin. "Thank you."

"It's nothing," Harry replies. I know better though; it's something.

"Do you know anyone who can get us certified as purebloods?" Draco asks "Assumed identities and whatnot? All of my connections are unfortunately null under the circumstances."

Harry, Hermione, and Ron all shake their heads in unison, but only Ron speaks.

"My idiot brother probably could, but he has his head so far up the Minister's arse he can't see the sunshine, so he won't." He begins to mumble under his breath "He's more likely to turn you in for a profit, soulless bastard."

Harry and Hermione share a knowing look at his outburst.

"Yes, well, I think that will be all then." Draco remarks "Best to begin packing our things if we're to make it before nightfall, lovely." he says to me.

"You go ahead love," I tell him, standing to place a kiss on his cheek. "I'll be there in a moment. I'm going to say goodbye to Harry."

His eyes widen in uncertainty for the quickest flash, the muscles in his jaw clenching as he bites down on his suspicions. As soon as the expression comes, it's gone again, replaced by resolution, or resignation I suppose.

"Alright." he says, running his thumb over the bone in my hip. Somehow the affection feels like fear, like he's afraid to let me go.

"I love you." I tell him, on the chance he could use the reassurance.

"I love you too, darling." he says, but the defeat in his blank eyes is obvious. '_Not enough to let you go'_ lingers in the space between us.

He strides off to the tent nonetheless, the smell of autumn mornings and sound of sloshing snow fading on the breeze in his wake. I go to stir the cauldron. Seeing my concoction is nearly complete, I turn to face Harry.

"Hermione truly loves you, you know." I tell him. He endeavours to keep his face as straight as possible, but I see the frozenness overcome his features. "She won't tell you, she's not that kind of witch, so I thought you might like to know in case you haven't been paying attention. You're awful at noticing people's intentions for you."

"Yeah," he says, nodding with the air of a person who is fervently trying not to faint. "Thanks."

"I know you think there's not much you can do for her - she's amazing on her own - but you're wrong." I continue. He coughs a bit at this, and I'm under the distinct impression he may toss his lunch. I conjure a bucket on the ground in front of him, pressing on.

"There's quite a bit you can do for her. Let her sleep soundly, for one. Do all the supporting tasks; prepare the meals and rub her feet and give her time to sit quietly in the dark. She needs all the rest she can get to keep that giant brain of hers running."

As he nods along in sickened silence, a thought occurs to me -

"Where's the necklace I gave you when you left?"

He stutters and mumbles something about a mokeskin pouch. Obviously he's stuffed it somewhere far out of sight.

"It doesn't actually keep the nargles away, you know," I tell him.

"Yeah?" he questions, trying hard to keep the sarcasm out of his voice to preserve my heart. A bit bleeds through anyway, but I'm not offended.

"Yeah." I tell him "You can never truly keep them away. They'll always come, but with gifts like that, it's the love they're given from that makes the nargles easier to contend with. They remind you there is someone out there who wants to see you defeat them, and it gives you a bit of the strength you need to tell them to shove off."

He laughs at this, a tiny amount of the greenness in his skin dissipating at the sound.

"You know next time I can make you something with a muggle deity if you fancy any of them. Or maybe Godric or a lion or something you care about. Anything to remind you that you're not alone out here."

His aura flares golden as a wave of shame hits him, his emerald eyes sinking into the dark places in his mind. It bothers me when he does this - feeling guilty for having other people worry about him. I'd like to soothe the pain, but I can only do so much without his assistance.

"Here," I say picking up a snow-soaked leaf to transfigure into a tiny white dove. He opens his palm, and I sit the trinket inside. It flaps its wings in the air, but doesn't take off.

"Thank you. What is it?" he asks, looking up at me with unsheltered curiosity.

"It's you, Harry." I respond "It's what the rest of us hold onto. It's what tells us we aren't alone in our misery, and it's why we keep fighting."

"Thank you," he says again, standing to pull me into his arms this time.

I can feel all of the ideas he doesn't have words for in the embrace. I absorb that little extra morsel of okayness, and know he won't stuff the bird away in his mokeskin pouch, but keep it in his pocket for a time before he inevitably loses it. I understand that he's going to try to cook again only to burn the fish, but he'll keep at it until he has something Hermione fancies. I know he'll rub her feet even if it ruins his appetite, and he'll hold her until his arms go numb while she pierces the silence with her thoughts.

I bring together every fragment of courage I have to let him go, to drape my arms across his shoulders and say what might be our final parting words.

"I love you, Harry. I always have, and always will. So please don't die, and try to give her your best effort. You can do both, I know you can." I reassure him.

As expected, he contains his shock sublimely. He lets the words melt into his mind and warm his heart as he pulls me in once again. He whispers something unexpected into the hair above my ear.

"I love you too, Luna. Always will. And I will... I won't.." he stammers, backing away to look me in the eyes, nodding fast like one of those muggle toys. "I'll do all those things, ok? I'll do it, I promise."

"Good," I say, giving him one last smile before turning to leave. He holds me fast.

"I wish you would have told me... before now." he says, defeat and longing flooding his soft green gaze with regrets that will never be absolved.

"Wish in your hand, but it won't fill up." I reply, raising my arm to tap my wand over the kitten. As the dragon made of stars roars to life, I'm satisfied that at least one of us has had all of our unspoken wishes come true.

"Yeah," he says, the same tired grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I hope he's everything you think he is. You're better at sorting people out than I am."

"He is." I say "I'm certain."

"I'll take your word for it. Goodbye, Luna." he replies, releasing me with a torn finality.

"See you later, Harry. May magic be with you."

I return to the tent where Draco has cleared up all of our belongings to stow neatly into our potions pouch. He probably finished quite a while ago, judging by the speed with which he is pacing from one end of the tent to the other.

"Oh, good! You're back!" he says with a beaming smile and all the brightness of a puppy who's master has returned from holiday. His joy reaches straight through my spirit as he pulls me into his chest, seeming to think better of it before granting me a kiss. His face falls as his eyebrows furl and nostrils flare in an uncanny imitation of his father. He immediately sets to casting several cleaning charms over me as if I am some dirty piece of laundry.

"There," he says, giving a contented grin before inhaling deeply of the daisy in my hair and relaxing into a slow kiss up my neck.

"What was that about?" I ask, confused.

"You wouldn't force me to breathe the stench of Potter all the way to my aunt's, would you love?" he responds "Bastard smells like he's been living outdoors."

I laugh at this because he's right. I prefer the warming aroma of toffee apples and sunshine to the pungent odour left by remorse.

xoXOXox

I read over the map until I know it by memory. Two red dots reading "hare" and "dragon" are positioned along our starting point. Many other animal names are floating amongst the Order strongholds, "wolf" and "leopard" and so on. I notice that no similar markers are indicating "ostentatious bloody stag" or "otter" or "weasel" to accompany us.

Hermione comes along, the brilliant blade clanking on her back to remind me of an inquiry I had pushed to the side for a time such as this.

"My Godfather, Severus, is he alive?" I ask, pointing to the sword.

"So far as I know." she replies, barely containing her resentment.

"Thanks," I tell her, pulling her into a final embrace. "Call in my debt when you're ready." I say in her ear, flashing a sight of the gold coin her direction.

"Hopefully, it won't be necessary." she responds, tapping what's surely my folding blade in her pocket.

I flash her the smile that's been said to cause witches to wet their knickers, knowing it won't affect her as such.

"Stay alive then, Hermione." I tell her.

"Stay alive, Draco." she replies, landing a punch squarely in my chest.

"Violent little swot." I reply as she walks over to Luna.

"Potter," I say, reaching out to shake the hand of my rival-turned-accomplice. A competent conjurer I am, when my survival rests in the balance.

"Draco," he returns, gripping my hand a touch too forcefully.

The Weasel approaches from behind, gripping me about the waist to hoist me into the air.

"Constant vigilance, mate!" he roars, tossing me back to my feet roughly. I land lightly, twisting to face my assailant in one fluid movement.

"It's also pertinent not to skulk at other's backs, Weasel. You'll get yourself killed that way, mate." I return

"Nah," he drawls, waving a dismissive hand my direction "Gotta keep the high ground and all that. Surprise is one of the best weapons." He claps me on the shoulder, granting me a gaze into his sky-blue eyes. "Keep the high ground mate, and stay out of the snow." He says somberly. "Remember, gingers have to stick together." He casts a quick glamour over me that I infer has me looking like a true Weasley relative by the freckles and orange hair on my arms. "Call me when the cotton pouffes come! Never too early for Uncle Ronnie to start teaching them swear words!" he leaves on the wind at his departure.

"Get a life, Weasel!" I blow back at him

"Right you are, off to the life shop with me!" he says with an exaggerated accent and a jaunty step. I do so prefer his company. Perhaps I will give him a shout when this bloody war has ceased.

"Ready, love?" Luna calls from the glamoured body she's been given. Her hair is a bit lighter, she's more curvaceous and taller than she should be. The transformation is disconcerting. I want my Luna. "It's alright." she says, seeing the strain that's painfully evident in my borrowed features. "I think we are supposed to be Bill and Fleur Weasley, or perhaps some of their kin. I don't speak French though, so it will be important for us not to be questioned."

On that note, the danger of our undertaking slaps me in the face as sure as a physical assault. We'll have to make it to Andi's quickly, ensuring no one sees us as we descend. If we are stopped for questioning, that's the end of our gruesome fairy tale.

"Right," I say "Ready."

We cast our disillusionment and all the needed charms as we climb aboard the carpet. We arrive in moments to a nondescript house I've never stepped foot in, no matter that it belongs to my relatives. We roll up the carpet, rapping at the golden serpent's knocker.

"State your names." a low woman's voice calls from beyond the threshold. It carries the distinct demeanour of a person pointing a wand at another.

"Dragon and hare." I return, just as stoically.

A chain is heard unlinking as the door is opened a hairsbreadth.

"Cast your patronus, witch." the woman intones, her acidic voice not aiding in any happy memories.

Luna casts swiftly nonetheless, and is welcomed into my family's home to cancel her glamours.

Aunt Andi opens the door fully. She's nearly as I remember her: petite like my mother, dark like Aunt Bella. Soft brown waves fall down her back; her wide chocolate eyes are framed in black lace lashes.

"Who are you?" she says in the sound of crackling ice.

"Draco… Draco Lucius." I pull from my chest. I can't bare to say Malfoy anymore.

"Who is your mother, and what does she call me?" she asks in the same cold tone.

"Narcissa Black, of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. She calls you Andi, you call her Cissy, and she loves you like the full moon loves the tide." I give her the extra bit of sentiment I've overheard when my mother used to talk to her under the cover of darkness from the mirror in her vanity. This seems to startle her, but she rights her expression expeditiously.

"When did you and I first meet?" she questions.

"At my third birthday, you gave me a silver snitch, and Dory scared me by changing her face into a house-elf."

"It's you." she sighs elated, pulling me into her arms for a quick embrace. She hastily pulls me beyond the threshold, cancelling all my glamours in my stead. She grasps the wrist of my wand arm, pulling it up to examine.

"It's false then? My sister wouldn't let that monster mark you." She asks and states, somewhere between a question of reckless optimism and one of vanishing certainty.

"She didn't let him mark me, but he did nonetheless. It's gone now, though." I placate, tapping my arm with the wand to show the dragon and the girl. Andi nods with a small grin, evidently impressed.

From across the room, a higher, softer woman's voice -

"That's quite a bit of colour you've given yourself, little cousin. You'll have to give me the name of your artist when I get this baby out of me."

"Luna Lovegood" Luna remarks offhandedly, at the same time "Dory" falls out of my mouth on the essence of a whisper.

"You've gotten big, Drake." Nymphadora notes, her pink hair causing the red puffiness of her eyes to stand out all the more.

"I could say the same about you, Dory. It appears that congratulations are in order." I reply, gesturing to the life evidently growing within.

"Thanks," she says, pulling me into a sidelong embrace "I'm ready for it to be over and to meet my baby." She replies, arching with a hand on her back. I take her other hand, imploring her to sit.

"Still the gentleman, I see. At least Lucius didn't rub that out of you." she muses flippantly. I bristle at the mention of my father's name. She seems to pick up on this, quickly changing the subject. "Well, I think congratulations are in order for you too! Great job staying alive! And you've got a girlfriend!" she squeals excitedly, as if this is the best news she's heard in some time.

"I am, and I do." I reply, belatedly realising this is indeed news most worthy of celebrating. "Thank you."

Andromeda speaks from the shadow behind a corner lamp. "Yes, this is a most welcome development. We all thought you were dead, nephew. Your mother put this out."

She hands me a copy of the Daily Prophet with yesterday's date stamped on it. I read silently as the others stare on.

**The Most Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy Left Without Heir as Only Son Perishes in Fire**

_Here at the Daily Prophet, our sympathies are with Lord and Lady Malfoy, who lost their son this week in what some are calling a tragic accident, others are calling a successful assassination. Turn to page 4 to learn this author's views on the matter._

"Deplorable." I mutter under my breath, pressing forward.

_One thing we all stand to agree upon is the loss to Wizardkind at the extinction of such a prestigious lineage. This leaves us all questioning if the Malfoys will endeavor to produce a new scion to prevent the collapse of their bloodline. _

I cringe at the thought of my mother and father attempting to replace me with a new heir to continue their despicable name. Have these reporters no shame? No decency? My mother would never, although my father might well insist.

_Inquiring minds demand answers, and thus, this reporter has gone to the painstaking trouble of procuring an exclusive statement from none other than Lady Narcissa Malfoy herself, transcribed below for the reader to draw conclusions from._

My heart pounds ferociously as my mother's words speak to my heart from the bolded script on the trembling page.

_Wizarding Britain,_

_This Monday, tragedy has befallen our family and the entire wizarding community. My sole son and heir, Draco Lucius Malfoy, passed beyond the veil in a horrific fire accident at our home in Wiltshire at the tender age of seventeen. The healers believe he perished in his sleep, and thus suffered minimally in his untimely passing._

Good. They're labelling it an accident. Hopefully that serpentine monstrosity will believe our lies once more.

_At this time we believe the fire to have been purely coincidental. My son was an avid potioneer, and it appears he took rest with his cauldron alight, causing the contents within to overheat and erupt. He never awakened, resulting in his death before our family understood what had taken place._

Of course, she wouldn't have mentioned the aspect of the exploding wards to anyone who may have deigned to follow her. Had the Dark Lord learned she had any part of his leverage being disintegrated into ash, she would have been tortured to death; nevermind the endless shame she would ostensibly heap upon herself knowing her wandwork was the cause of her only son's demise. It was only my faith in her that allowed me to put her in such a position. She must have known.

_Although our hearts are torn asunder for the many friends and loved ones Draco has left behind, due to the state in which he perished we will not be hosting a memorial for the public. It is my hope our privacy will be honoured as we mourn the loss of our only child. I would implore you to remember Draco as he once was - a vibrant boy, incredibly talented with high wits and endless cleverness. It goes without saying the ravaging hole in my heart will not be repaired until I am reunited with my son in passing. Beyond the veil of darkness, may he soar amongst the stars._

_Narcissa Black Malfoy_

As expected, there is not so much as a mention of Luna, although surely "her" body was found alongside "mine". It appears our plan went smoothly, as Mother seems to have been the first to respond as her wards collapsed in the fire. I knew as much, as she would have been the first alerted and would rush to my rescue as always. Surely she knows. I have no doubt the note about flying amongst the stars was meant for my eyes alone.

"What do you make of this?" Andi asks me.

It takes every vehement remainder of my strength to pull my dying occlumency shields viscously into place. If I were alone, or with Luna, I might fall to my knees and cry for my mother. My heart is ripped open anew as I mourn for her.

"She knows." I answer, daring to hope my only family and the cradle of my safety at the moment has the fortitude to keep their mouths shut. "I tried to bring her but…" My jaw tightens firmly against the memory. "She said she needed to stay with my father."

"Of course." Andi replies, her eyes transforming into cold slits as venom seeps into her voice. She looks as if she would like to lambast my ears with an onslaught of insults against my sire, but holds her tongue as she departs our company instead.

"Mum made soup." Dory says to us, her eyes lighting up. "You should get some, then you'll have to show me the carpet. That thing looks wild."

"Oh it is. Quite an adventure to fly." Luna says "But Draco doesn't like it much. Gets a bit queasy with the speed, I think."

"I simply wish to ensure my heart continues pumping, if you must know." I interject

Dory laughs, guiding us to the kitchen to procure our sustenance for the evening. Luna wraps her arm around my waist, tucking her face into my ribs.

"What do I do if it has meat in it?" she whispers "I don't know much about pureblood dinners, and wouldn't want to offend anyone."

"Vanish it when they're not looking." I tell her softly. "We'll conjure you some fish instead."

I stroke her hair, seating her beside me at the small oak table. There are four matching chairs poised around it, with a fifth white one pulled haphazardly from some other dining set. This is the one I take, pulling it precariously close to Luna as we eat.

Little is said as we indulge in the meal, sipping the warm soup and passing hot rolls around to dip in it. It's a cosy affair, causing me to wonder where the occupant is of the fifth vacant seat. I say nothing, however, as not to break the feeble stability we're entertaining.

"This is delicious, Mrs Tonks." Luna remarks to my aunt. "I make one somewhat like it, but with more onions. Onions are good to keep away sickness and all that."

My aunt raises a quizzical eyebrow at my beloved, and I hope to all the stars she won't take offence at her blatancy.

"Yes, well, I'm glad you like it." Andi replies with a soft smile as I let out the breath I'd been holding.

"Where's Mr Tonks?" Luna asks, and I feel my face flush at the inappropriateness of the question. I squeeze her hand tighter, waiting nervously for the response.

"He's in hiding," Aunt Andi replies, nonplussed. "but we keep his chair at the table, because that's where he sits, whether he's here with us or not."

An unquestioned finality rings in her tone. '_That's where he sits. This is where he belongs. Whether he's forced away from us or not, we'll remember his place.'_

I've gained an unprecedented amount of respect for my family this evening.

xoXOXox


	19. His Narrow Cage

Mrs Tonks puts us up in a quiet room on top of the stairs. It's nice to finally be in a place with a bit of colour, as the walls are a soft green atop a deep emerald carpet. There's a small, tufted bed resting in the centre of the room with its back to a square window overlooking the garden. Birds and humdingers can be heard chirping in the morning, and I've no doubt there will be singing moonbabies at night when the Spring finally comes. Golden sunlight floods the room in the afternoon, making for a glorious opportunity to draw if I had any parchment. Since I don't and don't wish to inconvenience our host for it, I make temporary charms on the backs of serviettes, on my ankles, on anything that will sit still long enough for me to decorate.

Draco has grown testy in the weeks we've been living with his family. He gets angry at the slightest things, snapping and apologising for it almost daily. I think it's the lack of control that has him so frustrated. It's like leaving one cage to be sent to another. Being reasonably safe so many times has it's drawbacks.

His hands are sorely tied with trying to sell the carpet to repay Mrs Tonks, although she's assured him she never touches the money Narcissa sends her way. I try to understand, but it's difficult. With so much time alone to think, I relax, while he falls into never-ending spirals of uncertainty. Each day he half-pitches a new idea for us to gather our families back. I listen, I nod, then I tear his reasoning to the tiniest pieces while he complains.

"We could contact your father, I'm sure of it," he says to me, leaning on his elbows to hang his head between his knees.

It's rather interesting seeing him like this, so troubled, yet so unbothered by his usual worries. He has taken the spot in his mind that usually tells him to sit up straight and mind his pureblood manners and filled it with plotting instead.

"How could we, kitten?" I ask

"We could send word through someone close by, like Weasel or some of his lot."

"Ron is busy having spattergroit, remember darling? No need to blow his ruse on my account." I run my fingers through his hair. "Besides, you know dad won't keep his mouth shut for two seconds once he knows I'm alive. He'll go right back to publishing the way he was before and all of us will be in trouble again."

He huffs audibly.

"Fine. What about my mother?"

"What about her, love?"

I hate it when he brings up Narcissa. The lack of solid ideas we've created is maddening, and the pain he exudes ties me in knots. Anything I respond with ends in an argument; ends with his hurt feelings and my pained heart. We've gone over fifty plans to rescue her, at least. Not that she wants to be rescued. If a person rescues someone who doesn't wish to be rescued, is it considered kidnapping? I'd hate to go through the risk of abducting her only for her to tell Draco again she plans to stay with his father again. Although the truth will set him free, it may very well crush him on the way out when that door flies open.

"If we could only get a message to her… Perhaps Andi still has the charmed mirror..." he ponders

"Draco, you said yourself that your mother hid that mirror away ages ago. I doubt she'll go looking for it now."

I get swept into the storm of his grey eyes, watching the hope inside grow duller and weaker.

"We'll figure it out," I tell him, squeezing his hand. We will. I don't know how, but we will.

"Luna!" Tonks calls from downstairs. "Help me up, will you please?"

I leave Draco with a peck on the lips as I all but fly down the stairs, taking Tonks hand to steady her on the way up the staircase. I enjoy listening to her exciting Auror stories, so it's come to pass that I help her move around in her extremely pregnant form. She's growing by the day. Breathing is becoming more and more difficult for her as the baby expands inside her body.

"Thanks, love." she pants, flopping down in her reclining chair in the upstairs drawing-room. I summon a cool flannel for her to put on her forehead.

Not a worrier by nature, I can't help but be a bit put out of my calm by Tonks and the baby. She won't be able to deliver at Saint Mungo's, as the baby will surely be carted away and tested for lycanthropy if she does. If the baby turns up positive… I'd hate to think of the repercussions. Will she be able to get a healer to come to her instead? What will she do with Draco and me? Will Mrs Tonks have to do it? What if something goes wrong?

So many questions and so few plans we have.

To look at the silver side, as I always try to do, at least Draco and I won't have to worry about giving birth during this war. I've never been so thankful to have charmed my womb shut until we decide to open it if we want to. It's a happy thought, to think of Draco carrying a pudgy child with white fluffy hair on his shoulders. A joyful fantasy indeed for us to answer endless questions and have broom races in some unknown Quidditch pitch. For us to laugh until we cry. Unfortunately, happy thoughts don't always translate to a happy reality.

Reality, it seems, is usually a sight messier than what I create in my imaginings. Here in real life, it would be dreadful to bring someone I love as much as I'll surely love my son or daughter into this dire situation, even if I think Draco and I could handle it. You never quite know when the world is going to crumble around you, but I'd like to have a foundation laid for us to stand on regardless. How are we to prepare a foundation with everyone we care about scattered around the country, imprisoned, in hiding, and running for their lives? No, before our future can unfold for us, we must wait, and be patient, and keep doing the impossible.

I make small talk with Tonks about all the different creatures in the garden, about the healing properties of this substance and that, but my heart isn't in it. My heart is pounding to the rhythm of "_fix it, fix it, make all of his dreams come true". _My desires lie on the battlefield. The evil in them is whispering terrible curses in my ear and gouging at my rationality with a spoon, digging a little harder and deeper with each fruitless day. I want to cut down the bars to this cage we're trapped in, rolling over every monster who stands in our way. I'll pave the path to our freedom with blood and fire, or by any means necessary. My stupid heart, my idiotic, useless heart, keeps telling me to _do something_, to make a move, to end this nightmare once and for all.

"Luna, have you heard a word I said, dear?" Tonks asks

"No, I was just thinking," I reply, standing up. "I need to go check on Draco. Thanks for talking with me."

My senseless, worthless, fragile heart needs mending.

xoXOXox

I've memorized every channel to potentially retrieve my mother and her father. All of them lead to dead ends. I continue to tunnel through the wreckage of my mind, endlessly searching for routes yet to be taken. I busy myself with exercise and have grown stronger than I've been since I played Seeker. Luna and Andi have taught me how to cook for myself, and I find cleaning charms come naturally to me now. We've shagged until I'm surprised we can stand up properly, and frankly, we grow disinterested in it. I've watched her create drawings on every surface she can touch, including my skin and hers. Alas, there are only so many repetitive, mind-numbing tasks to pull me out of my occluding room when such important matters as our lives are at stake.

Everything sets my nerves on edge as my muscles ache with tension. The uncertainty, the not knowing, it drags me under, flooding my lungs with the blackest, foulest water. Who is still alive? When will this end? Does anyone care anymore?

I need the questions to stop. I need the purgatory to subside, if only for a spare breath. While Luna talks with Dory, I lean into my potions pouch to find my last morsel of relief. As I slip my fingers over the sparkling pink confection, my beloved calls to me.

"What are you doing?" Luna asks quizzically, leaning against the doorway.

"Candy," I reply flatly, a web of guilt spinning in my gut to attach all of my insides together.

She doesn't admonish me but sits at my side instead.

"May I try one?" she asks, her sparkling eyes lit with morbid curiosity.

The gods-damned web churns and curls in on itself, bursting forth with endless calamitous spiders as she takes a piece from my hand.

"No," I nearly beg, grasping her wrist a touch too roughly to keep the gelatin away from her mouth.

"Why?" she says with the ire of a witch scorned, piercing me with the stare of Medusa herself. "Am I not allowed to enjoy myself? Only you are allowed to let your feelings take over your judgement, hmm?" she spews with venom. "Because you're the man, so you do what you want, while I do what I must? Is that it, Draco?"

The floodgates have opened. I have been expecting this resentment to come. Our seclusion is wearing on her as it wears on me.

"It's not that, lovely," I tell her gently, reaching to take her into my arms. She pulls away swiftly, affronted.

"Then tell me what it is," she demands, not the barest hint of affection in her tone.

"Luna," I implore, letting all the guilt and sorrow flood into my eyes for her to touch with her gaze. "I don't want to see you hurt, and this filthy concoction hurts. It hurts when you leave it, okay?"

She sits up straight, her eyes transforming into blue steel as she reprimands me.

"You know what hurts, Draco?" she asks in the low drawling tone I've learned will proceed a violent blow. "Sitting still. Sitting here in silence while the whole world burns around us. That hurts."

As if she has summoned pain from the air, my galleon burns my flesh through my pocket. I fish it out as she reaches for hers. We read the words together in stunned horror.

'_Otter - Snatched - Help'_

I feel sweat flooding under my arms and in my palms, a cold chill seeping up my spine.

"Where?" I hastily reply.

No response comes.

"Stag? Weasel?" I shout into the coin.

Nothing but silence answers me.

Of course, the Snatchers would remove all of the gold from their victims first. It's what they're after, it's all they're after. They couldn't care less about what happens to the lives they sell for a profit. How many bodies are broken in the name of the almighty galleon. Of course, they would remove the gold first, because they don't care if the world ends so long as they are seated on their deathly thrones. If they have Hermione, they have Potter, and if they have Potter, the world may end tonight.

We have to move, now.

Luna reads my mind, or my aura, or simply knows what needs to happen. I can't tell and don't care to. Let her remain my beautiful enigma.

"Time to leave?" she asks, the brightness of her voice tearing a brand new wound in my soul.

I want to say no, to leave her here with my aunt in the relative safety of the Black wards under the watchful eye of an Auror. At the same time, I know I can't do this without her. I need her. I need her intelligence, I need her strength, I need her to watch the vipers at my back. If my apparition is tracked, how will I get there without her? A broom isn't fast enough to ride to the end of the world.

"We go together," I tell her.

She sends a patronus to Andi and Dory as we ready the carpet. Opening the windows and casting a disillusionment charm, we launch yet again into whatever dangers await.

xoXOXox

No information. We have no information. We are taking a shot in the dark by flying to Malfoy Manor. Would the Snatchers take Undesirables Number One and Two to the same prison as the rest of the captives? Or would they want them somewhere safer? No, they'll definitely bring them to the Manor. Right to Voldemort himself.

If we're wrong and they've taken them to Azkaban, there's not much to be done for it aside from burning the sodding building to the ground. I'm not entirely against that idea at this point.

'_Otter - Snatched - Help'_ will be branded into my mind's eye for as long as I live. Judging by our odds, that may not be long.

It takes forever and then some to get to Wiltshire. Even with the carpet going full tilt, it's at least half an hour before we arrive at the gates. They may all be dead by now. We hover high above, staying downwind as the gates part wide. We slip inside barely in time to not be crushed beneath the wrought iron. The carpet, however, is not so lucky. I get a demonstration of the Dark Sword as Draco casts a Sectumsempra to sever the tangled tassels from the bars, shrinking it in hopes it will fly for us once more.

Up the winding gravel road leading to the front entry, a group of wizards Draco calls "deplorables" drag what appears to be a handful of captives - bound and gagged - through the threshold. We cast a silencing charm over us and sprint towards the precipice, barely catching a glimpse of Narcissa as she turns her back. The door booms shut before we arrive.

"Fuck," Draco swears under his breath.

No, not fuck, kitten - _think_.

"How else can we get in?" I ask

"Father will be alerted if I open the wards," he says

We don't have time for this. Harry, Hermione, and Ron could be dying right now. Our friends could be undergoing torture. Our hopes for a better tomorrow could be getting murdered as we speak.

"I said how _can _we, not how _can't _we, kitten." I remind him in what is hopefully a non-combative, reassuring voice.

"We can't cross the wards without giving away our position, Luna!" Draco snaps "Even if we took that chance, we don't know if this bloody carpet will fly and I can't inconspicuously Accio a broom, now can I? We can't apparate. We'll have to wait for the door to open again."

We don't have that kind of _time_. Bellatrix, if she's in there, kills swiftly. If Voldemort is present, Harry could be gone already. If Harry is gone…

"Draco, call Mimsy," I command

"What?" he asks, unhelpfully

"SUMMON YOUR ELF!" I snap

"Mimsy," he whispers

The elf appears before us with a loud crack. As we are still under the disillusionment charm, she looks around confused to see who has summoned her.

"Mimsy?" Draco says again and the elf jumps back, startled.

"M-M-Master Draco?" she frantically questions

"It's me," Draco replies

She screams, pulling her ears down over her knees in fright.

"M-M-Master D-D-Draco is a ghost!" she shrieks "Come to p-punish M-Mimsy for…" she starts crying and wailing uncontrollably, running headfirst into a pomegranate tree.

"Mimsy!" Draco hisses. "Control yourself! I'm not a ghost, I'm here."

"No!" Mimsy continues to wail "M-M-Mimsy saw the b-b-b… s-saw the b-bod…"

"Body?" I offer

She starts sobbing again, wrenching awful, guttural shrieks of pain from the lowest places in her soul.

"Silence!" Draco commands "Are you trying to get us killed?"

A thought occurs to me. I stoop down, getting eye to eye with Mimsy, or where our eyes would meet if she could see me at any rate.

"Mimsy, can you hear me?" I ask.

"M-M-Miss?" she responds.

"Yes," I say in the most consoling tone I can muster. She must be frightened beyond her wits already.

"Mimsy… Mimsy could always hear Master Draco's Miss. Master Draco's Miss said thank you to Mimsy."

She could always hear me? She can read? I inhale deeply as I stifle my temper and refrain from arguing that I am not "Master Draco's" miss. No time.

"Yes, Mimsy, you did a nice thing for me, and I said thank you. Now, I'm going to say please."

"P-please Miss?"

"Yes, please, Mimsy. Our friends are inside, in danger, and we need you to get us in and get them out, please."

She looks confused for a moment. Draco sighs.

"She's a Malfoy elf," he explains exasperatedly. He casts a disillusionment charm over her as both of us grab onto her slight frame. "Mimsy, take us to Harry Potter, please."

With a crack, we arrive in the Malfoy dungeons. A piercing woman's scream cuts like a hot knife through the dark.

Hermione.

"Who's there?!" Ron shouts

"Shut it, Weasel!" Draco hisses

"Draco! You're alive!" Harry whispers

"Mimsy," Draco instructs, ignoring Harry "Take these two to my Aunt Andromeda's house and come back for us."

Another scream curdles the damp air between us.

"Hermione," Draco whispers, fear drenching him in sweat

"Yes, Master," Mimsy says, at the same time "No!" peels from Harry and Ron simultaneously.

"No!" Harry repeats, fighting to touch me in the darkness. "We'll fight with you!"

"No, Potter!" Draco says forcefully. "If you die up there, the whole world dies along with you. We need you to fight when you're ready."

Harry gives me a look of pure torment as he decides.

"Luna," he begs, finding both of my arms to place in his grip. "This is going to sound insane, but I know you'll believe me, won't you?"

"Always," I reply without question.

"If you can get to my things, there is a cloak in there fashioned by Death herself. Grab it, get under it, and you will escape."

"Can I summon it?" I ask

"No.," he says

"Ok."

He grasps onto Mimsy with one last plea - "Always will."

"Always will." I return as he and Ron vanish into the darkness.

Mimsy returns seconds later awaiting instructions. Draco begins immediately.

"The girl upstairs who is screaming, I need you to take us to her and get her to Andromeda's. We'll hold off Bellatrix. Then come back for Luna and me."

"Y-Y-Yes M-M-Master."

We cast one final disillusionment as we are delivered into the fires of hell.

xoXOXox

We arrive in the Drawing Room to a terrifying sight. Hermione lays in a puddle of her blood beneath Aunt Bella in front of us. My father is to my right, with my mother standing mere centimetres in front of him. Snatchers and Death Eaters line the wall behind us. Godfather is nowhere to be found. The metallic smell of death and dark magic permeate the air. Dust falls like fire ash through the light streaking down from the high windows.

'_Keep the high ground.'_ lingers in my mind.

Time stands still as in one instant, the entire sky comes crashing down around us.

The crack of apparition.

"Homenum Revelio!"

The slide of bodies across the floor.

A whispered "Avada Kadavra"

Cackling.

"Protego Maxima!"

"Avada kadavra!"

"Draco!"

The wet, gurgling sound of a blade being lodged into ribs.

Another crack of apparition.

My mother runs towards me.

A gut-wrenching wail. "No!"

A final apparition.

And now, I'm face to face with my Father.

xoXOXox

Mimsy apparates us to the perfect place in the Drawing Room. I have a clean shot at Bellatrix and take it.

"Avada Kadavra" I whisper, even as Lucius shouts a revealing charm. Bellatrix must have reacted immediately to the sound of our arrival because she slides her and Hermione out of the way before my spell connects.

Fuck.

She lets out a blood-boiling cackle as she sees us. I almost have another shot, but Hermione's arm is too close to her. Draco throws an enormous shielding charm behind us to protect us from the oncoming evil. Bellatrix lifts her chin. I cast another killing curse at her neck, even as she raises her wand to undoubtedly send one at me. She pauses for a fraction of a moment as Hermione shoves Draco's knife between her ribs. I can hear the blood fill her lungs and see her aura fading to smoke. Serves the sadistic bitch right. Hermione is rescued by Mimsy, who quickly returns to retrieve Draco and me. I reach for his hand, but he rushes forward, pulling Narcissa forcefully away from Lucius. I see blood shooting from his leg, bright rivers of it, red streams of his life leaking out against the fading day.

A primal scream of "No!" escapes my lips as I vanish into the dark without him.

xoXOXox

"Draco!" my mother screams, falling against my chest as I pry her from Father's clutches by force.

"No Cissy! Don't be foolish! That's not our son!" parts from his ignorant lips.

I look him in the eyes as I point my wand to my mother's head.

"You're right, Father. I'm not your son, I'm hers."

A blinding white light pierces my vision as a searing pain connects with my thigh and Mimsy pulls us into darkness.

We arrive in a clearing on the outskirts of nowhere. I grab my mother's wand, break it, and throw it on the ground as she clings to me for dear life.

"Take us to Andromeda's" I command the elf.

In moments, we are safe at my aunt's. I collapse to the ground as a warmth I've never felt before overtakes me. I hear a slow drip plink against the hardwood. Looking down, I see Bella's dagger lodged in my leg. This is it. My Fates have captured me, and I cannot run now.

Luna launches herself at me. With her reddened, tear-streaked face and golden halo of curls wild about her head, I know I'll be sent across the veil by an angel of light. I pull her into my arms as I lay dying on the floor. Even as I go, for one last time we'll be together. She sobs into my hair panting "no, no" over and over again.

"Shh…" I tell her as if her silence will bring any consolation. Let my angel smile for me one last time.

"Master Draco's Miss, yeah? Sounds good doesn't it?" I ask. She nods fast into my hair, holding my face to place a kiss on my lips. "You know what sounds better?" I continue. She shakes her head no. "Draco's Missus," I say, trying valiantly to smile through the pain. My vision is starting to go black around the edges. Now is the time to speak. "Will you do that for me, Luna? Will you let me be Mr Lovegood for tonight?"

"Yes. Yes, Draco. Now until forever." she promises, tears cracking her voice. "Petrificus totalus," she whispers, and my moon goes dark.

xoXOXox

Draco lands with a wet drop in Andromeda's sitting room, covered in blood and clinging to Narcissa. I run towards him, and the air stops in my chest as I see it: a silver hilted dagger pulsing out from his thigh. The same dagger Bellatrix was digging into Hermione's flesh. Who knows how many lives have been taken with it.

He's fading fast, and I can't find any competent thoughts. Only '_no, no, please, please_…' on repeat.

As his blood spills out of him, I feel my magic begin to weaken.

'_I won't let you die. Not by anyone, or by any means. On my magic.'_

I only have moments to complete any stroke of brilliance I have left.

I swear my life to him, and his to mine as he falls unconscious. With what remains of my magic, I cast a petrificus on him to stop the bleeding and perhaps to keep the blade's curse from spreading. I pull the vile instrument from him and it burns my skin. I can't seem to make myself care.

"Do you know the counter curse? Do you know the counter curse?" I ask the Black sisters frantically, hoping they know the evil secrets of their origins.

They both shake their heads as Andromeda leaves the room and Narcissa crumples weeping on the floor.

Cowards.

Andromeda returns with a blood replenisher.

"You'll have to unpetrify him to get it down his throat," she instructs stoically.

I can't actually. Luckily, I don't have to.

"Accio syringe." I incant. I fill it with the blood replenisher and shove it straight into his heart.

"He's still bleeding!" I shout into the air, hoping anyone with any power might hear me, might pull him back from the darkness, might let me soar amongst the stars with him.

I peel off my jumper to tie around the wound, but it continues to soak through. My love is dying on my watch. The stars come pouring down from heaven as he takes his final breaths

Hermione stumbles into the room, dragging the sword of Gryffindor along the ground with her non-bandaged arm.

"Here." she says "Save him."

xoXOXox


	20. A Caged Bird Stands

After everything: after burning bodies and dungeon mold, Imperius curses and fights for our lives, I finally - viscerally, experientially - understand the benefits of occluding.

It's too much to remember. The memories only moments old are hard and cold and clean. The crisp snap of bone beneath the blade. The jerk of his body as the blood runs dry.

It's too much to take in. The feelings are warm and soft and rushing. The flow of a balmy tide welcoming me as my magic pours back in. The first breeze of spring blowing into me as I knit his silken skin together where it never was meant to be sewn.

Narcissa Malfoy - frigid, methodical Narcissa Malfoy - who has never shed a tear in another's presence - weeps openly on a borrowed kitchen chair, gripping her only living sister's hand as if it's the last thing keeping her feet moulded to the ground.

"Draco," she says to me through high pitched tears and mourn-stained cries "Is he alive?"

She asks it in a whisper, against her perfect Slytherin judgement, even as I'm covered in his blood.

"Yes," I reply "He's missing a leg, but he's alive."

She melts to the ground, holding her head in her hands as she pours out all that remains of her heart. Her comfort is not my priority now. Let her shout her pain to relieve her anguish while I act to salvage our hopes. Healing will come in the morning.

It's going to take me days of studying textbooks and much trial and error to conjure a new leg for him, but it will come in time. I'll work tirelessly to make it happen. I'll forge miracles from nothing, much like I always do. Ironically, there are more pressing matters at the moment.

Bellatrix's dagger must be destroyed beyond all hope of repair. I don't have any cares to give that it's a Black family heirloom or that it cost enough to sell my life for. That thing is tainted with the nastiest magic, carrying a shredded shard of soul from one of the vilest witches to ever exist.

Andromeda's pristine dark hardwood is hacked into pieces as Harry and Ron take turns swinging the sword at the dagger. The sound of metal on metal interlaces with grunts of strain and bloody screams of murder as the soul within is destroyed. Dobby the house-elf twirls Harry's pouch around his finger from his perch on the corner table. Draco lays upstairs in our borrowed room, holding a hand that's not mine to soothe his ragged mind.

'I'll be there soon, darling. I have to ensure this darkness is purged before I can return to the light of your presence.'

With an ear-splitting wail, the same disgusting grey smoke that poured from the Dark Mark gushes into the air, then seems to dissipate as the dagger crumbles into ash. It's finished, and it's not. Who knows how many dark artefacts like this there are? Who knows how many souls have been split to be turned into memorials of their carnage? Evil infests like cockroaches, we can kill and kill and kill, but it never completely dies.

I suppose relief would be a rational response. Bellatrix is dead. We are alive. Voldemort is left without the captain of his guard, his most skilled warrior. When it comes time for Harry to confront him, the Dark will be at a sore loss for protection. Sadly, I feel no relief. I feel nothing but responsibility crushing my happiness, syphoning each drop of joy I might otherwise hold onto. I feel like a goddess who can't answer the prayers of her people, whose mouth has been melted shut and feet have been tied on her perch. This is an unhelpful thought, so I focus on the cans.

I can help Draco heal. I can help Harry fight. I can repay the Tonks' their kindness. I can thank Dobby for remembering the sword, and Hermione for letting me use it. I can owe them my heart, I can repay them with my magic, and I will.

xoXOXox

Hermione sits at my bedside, the bandage on her upper arm stained through with the dark red blood my aunt has stolen from her. Her cold hand trembles in mine, or mine trembles in hers; perhaps both. Her grip is not firm today, but soft and sublime, a feather-light touch to remind us we are physical beings; that despite all we've been through, we remain in the land of the living. We stay like this for eternity, sitting in silence, holding each other in what small way we are able to. Words are unnecessary. Words would never do justice to what we've seen.

'It will be okay.' her honey eyes seem to say.

I stare into them, running feeble circles across the back of her hand with my thumb. She's pulled me from the clutches of the grave yet again. My cruel Fates have no leverage against my defender of the Light.

I crave to know what's happening downstairs. The clattering and wailing and splitting of wood interrupts my unstable peace. To know what's befallen my Luna plagues me. Instead, I lie here helplessly, unable to so much as walk without support.

"Hello, Mr Lovegood," comes my angel's voice from the doorway.

The daisies adorning my moon are splattered in blood, her hands stained red from surely trying to cleanse them the Muggle way. She's without her jumper, openly displaying the pink splotches marring her porcelain arms. Her face and eyes are red and swollen, portraying the hardship of a hundred days of penance paid that she never owed.

"Hello, Mrs Lovegood. It's delightful to see your beautiful face again, my lovely." I reply, opening my arms to welcome her home.

She slides in beside me, opposite Hermione. My light and my salvation sit to each side of me, commanding the darkness to flee.

"I've been meaning to ask you…" Luna begins "Do you really want to take my name? We could maybe be Blacks instead, or Tonks'? What do you think? Would Andromeda mind? Or we could make our own name."

I hold her tightly, not bothering in the slightest with what I'm called, so long as she calls me hers. Hermione lifts her lips minutely, and it's then I know.

"Granger?" I ask Luna, but Hermione answers.

"Yes?"

I look into the face of Death's conqueror.

"How about Granger? Would you do us the highest honour, Hermione? I'm hoping not to have to fulfil another life debt, so perhaps carrying on your name would resolve it for you?"

Her countenance breaks and dissolves into a thousand pieces before she speaks.

"Seriously? You would take a Mudbl-"

I take one of Luna's tricks to use for myself, placing a single finger over her dried rose lips.

"It would be the highest honour," I repeat.

She stares in silence as her mind whirrs around the implications. Finally, after every foul deed has been rectified, after all the possible motives have been vindicated, only once she is confident in gifting us the mark of her lineage, she softens her voice to speak.

"I would love to." she says "When's the wedding?"

"Now? Unless you'd like to have your father present?" I request, turning to my love. After nearly falling off the earth today, I don't want to waste any more time in creating my forever.

"Sure." she responds, smiling "We can have a celebration for everyone when we feel like it, if we ever do."

My senses abandon me as my body goes light as air.

"Hermione," I implore, grasping her hand to stay myself from floating into the sky. "Can you?.." I wince trying to sit up. She braces me around the shoulders as Luna links herself underneath my arm. Together, they raise me to sit.

"My love?" Luna asks, looking into me with a dreamy smile "May I have a present before the wedding?"

"Anything you desire," I immediately respond.

"Call Mimsy," she orders, and I do as I am bid.

The creature pops into our midst.

"Yes, Master Draco?"

I look to Luna for answers. She slips the sock off of my remaining foot, handing it to me. She turns to the elf.

"Mimsy, you are one of the bravest, most intelligent people I've ever met. I don't think someone like you deserves the treatment you receive. If you would like, Draco can give you this sock, and you'll be able to choose what you do with your life from now on. It's up to you."

Tears stream down the elf's face as Hermione's eyes grow glossy with sentiment.

The elf squeaks -

"P-people can work for Master Draco and Master Draco's Miss?"

Luna smiles, causing every muscle in my body to melt into complacence.

"People can work wherever they like, and we would be incredibly lucky to have you if you choose to stay with us." she responds

I reach the sock to the creature, who accepts it gingerly as if it's the most precious treasure.

"Thank you," she squeals "Miss Luna"

xoXOXox

"You're welcome, and thank you for saving us." I reply

I always feel strange asking house-elves to do things. It's hard to remember it's part of their culture, that they like to do things they're asked to do. It brings them joy to feel helpful and useful. I've already requested her to risk her life to save us once today, it shouldn't be so difficult to request one more favour of her.

"Mimsy, would you please gather Miss Narcissa, our friends, and the Tonks family and ask them to meet us here in half an hour?"

"NO!" she shouts, bursting into uproarious laughter through her tears.

I laugh along with her as Draco stares on in shock.

"Mimsy has always wanted to say that, Miss Luna." she says, wiping a joyful tear from her eye.

I feel that I understand her sentiment deeply. No is such a powerful word. No, I won't let you fall. No, you won't die without me. No, I won't stop loving you, no matter how long we're apart.

"Mimsy will go fetch the family now." she says, hurrying away to help me once again.

I shoot streams of daffodils and daisies, gardenias and marigolds over every surface of the small bedroom. May our life be blessed with the radiance of the sun.

I transfigure Draco's dirty jumper into a smart, deep green waistcoat with a light yellow button up shirt. He looks even more stunning in the colours of life. Finally, one-legged trousers and a crisp black shoe to complete the outfit.

I pull a daffodil and gardenia from one of the many streamers, placing them in his hand.

"Your best man should pin this on you," I tell him, "but if he's not here or no longer with us…"

"Hermione," he interrupts, handing her the flower.

Her eyes grow in a dazzled expression for merely a breath before she holds the flowers to his chest and casts a sticking charm over them. My groom is complete. Next, the Best Witch.

I fashion her a golden knee length dress with lace sleeves ending at her wrists. The metallic warmth of it brings a bit of life back into the pallor that's befallen her after the atrocities she's experienced today. I charm her nails and lips red to remind her of the heart that still pumps the lion's blood within. I'm confident she can handle any further glamours she'd like to wear.

I rush to the lavatory, accioing a bottle of Sleek Eazy from Tonks' things. Surely, she won't mind me using it on my wedding day.

I hastily toss the blood-soaked leggings and dress, casting a cleaning charm over myself for good measure. I don't want this moment to be tainted by injury and war.

I slick down my hair, charm my lashes darker, and focus on creating a dress to be proud of.

xoXOXox

"This is err… A lot of yellow." Hermione murmurs, standing unsteadily to go prepare Potter and the Weasel.

"Yeah," I respond on a whisper of a laugh.

With the plethora of floral accompaniments against the light green walls, one could easily imagine holding a wedding in a summer garden. It's a bit garish, but I find myself entranced by the ambiance nonetheless. It feels like the first day of spring after a long bout of frost.

My mother and aunt sit in stunned silence as Dory gushes over my hair, taming it this way and that, seeming to forget I've been styling it myself since I was a babe in arms. She seems to enjoy finding herself useful, however, so I allow her to indulge. There's no use fussing over it. There's no one here to outshine me, as the only wizards present are Potter and the Weasel. If I strategize competently, my hair will be disheveled again before the day is finished.

She finally relents, placing a silver handled mirror in front of me.

"You have to mess it up just right!" She says with a laugh as I peer at my reflection.

I must admit her work is impressive. My hair shines nearly the same pale yellow as the shirt, barely a shade off of its usual white. It falls a bit over my brows like I've recently had a good shag, but doesn't get in the way of my eyes. I find I like it this way. It aides in me looking less like my father and more like a new person all together.

Hermione returns with Potter and the Weasel both sporting a slightly less dashing version of my attire, each with a gardenia charmed to their breast. I'm in awe of the magical strength she displays mere hours after being used as a plaything by a pain-mongering lunatic. This woman is invincible, and she is my protector. It's not a lie I have to tell myself, but a fact that has proven to be conclusive.

Mother, Andy and Dory all wear formal blue robes with a marigold tucked into their hair at my beloved's request. Mother has smoothed their faces to rid them of any trace of turmoil, locking her occlumency shields firmly in place. Will this stubborn witch ever learn?

"Mother," I implore. She shoots up, arriving at my side in seconds.

"Yes, son?" she asks, anxious to appease.

"Take them down, please." I request "Only for me, only today."

She does as requested, years of agony and fear flooding to the crystal waters of her eyes. The pain is so palpable it freezes my heart, and all at once I understand why onlookers call her frigid. I take her hand in mine, purposely holding her stare for longer than is appropriate.

"We're beyond the veil now mother, it's time for us to soar."

She nods once, anguish filling her eyes with the essence of tears once more. I reach for a handkerchief to wipe them away before they fall.

Andromeda sets a violin to play, the piano downstairs amplified to provide a bit of harmony.

It's then I see her, the most astounding woman I've ever laid eyes on.

She floats into the room. Her hair falls in shining molten streams of gold to her petite waist. Her silken skin is as fresh snow, save for a delectable crimson blush in her cheeks. Her eyes shimmer like ice in the sun; her red lips awaiting mine only made more beautiful by her effervescent smile. She holds a bouquet of fragrant daffodils and gardenias wrapped at the stems with a yellow silk ribbon.

The dress, gods the dress -

I've never seen anything like it. It gives her the air of the finest bottle of champagne, one that will never run dry as I drink to my heart's content. Hair-thin gold lace is spun in an intricate design, sending the fading daylight scrambling into a million tiny fragments to dance along every surface of the room. Her shoulders are bare, whispering for my touch to warm them. Its evident she has wrapped herself as a gift given to me; a precious gift, born both of her will and my efforts. The form caresses her every curve to assert her glory. Her perfect breasts are somehow unfathomably more enticing pressed against her. As the bodice cradling them in place of my palms displays their roundness immodestly beneath her collar, I've never been so thankful for her lack of stifling politeness. Her waist dips violently where my arm belongs, giving way to pliant hips that beg me to fit myself between them. As she steps towards me, it's evident beneath the hem of her dress that her feet are bare save for thin gold chains and a smattering of red on the nails.

The Weasel brusquely interrupts my revelry, shoving his over-large arm underneath mine to wrap about my back.

"You didn't think I was going to let you take this lying down, did you, mate? Lazy ferret." He scoffs, lifting me to stand. "Gotta put your best foot forward!"

I rise unsteadily to my remaining leg, leaning heavily on the Weasel to maintain my balance. If this were any other day, shame for my circumstances would overtake me. Not today. Today, I've never been more certain I'm the luckiest bastard the Fates have ever set their sights on, for I've escaped their wrath to be delivered into a heaven of our creation. I fall into her eyes, letting the madness overtake me one final time as I dissolve into it fully, allowing it to become my sanity.

"You ready, kitten?"

xoXOXox

Draco and I face each other as I untie the ribbon around the bouquet, handing it to Hermione. I grasp his hand, and in an instant, it's bound to mine with a perfect yellow bow. A gift we give each other - to be around through the days and nights, to not leave each other without support and comfort. I now understand that's why it's called a present, because we are promising our presence to one another.

"Harry?" I ask "You'll do the rites for us, won't you?"

His mind breaks for a minute as the shock overwhelms him. I wait patiently while he collects himself.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course." he eventually responds, nodding his head to ensure himself he meant to say that.

He stands facing Draco's family - our family now - as Hermione and Ron each stand to our sides. It's nice to be surrounded by friends in celebrations such as these. I wonder mutely if Narcissa and Mrs Tonks have ever been to a wedding this intimate, and if they count themselves lucky to have been to one today. I certainly do.

"Alright, friends and family," Harry begins; his assuredness growing as more words flow from his mouth. "We're here today to celebrate the joining of two lives, bound by magic and… love." He looks at me, his eyes clearly asking 'Right? That is what we're doing here, isn't it?' I give him a tiny affirmative nod. He continues -

"Luna, do you take Draco…"

"Yes." I respond. The rest of that sentence wasn't important.

"And Draco?..."

"Absolutely," my love intones.

"Do the two of you have any vows you would like to make in the presence of magic today?"

I think about this question. I believe I've made all the vows I need to make to sustain us, and Draco knows what they are. I suppose for the purpose of repetition I could restate a few of the most important ones.

"I'll go first," I say "I promise to do my best to give you everything you need, and most of what you want. I'll help you grow, I'll be with you always, and I'll choose you first, so long as you do the same for me."

I think that sums it up nicely.

"Draco?" Harry intones.

I have the feeling his vows will be more elaborate and eloquent than mine. I don't mind. I enjoy his rambles.

"I promise to earn your trust in every moment, to cherish it as I cherish my magic. I promise to live in earnest for you and for me, to protect you with the strongest battlements in the darkest hours. I promise to continue to fight until there are no more wars to separate us, and I swear on my magic the world collapsing around us will never stop me from choosing you with every beat of my heart."

That was beautiful - even for Draco - not because of the words he said, but the freedom with which he said them. The truth has a way of healing the soul that the most elegant poetry can't compare to. In this moment, his voice rings with renewal, singing new hopes to the tune of our dreams.

"If magic agrees, let it be so." Harry incants. A white light surrounds Draco and I, and then it's gone. The ribbon binding us together vanishes, and all that's left is him and me. It's nice that magic is happy to see us team up to strengthen each other.

"By the rites of magic itself, I pronounce you Draco and Luna… Granger. May you live a long and happy life."

Harry turns to go, but Hermione pulls him back.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" she asks with a tinge of irritation.

Harry's dumbstruck. He has no idea what he's forgotten. To be fair, Narcissa seems to share the same confounded look.

"You're on your own for this one, mate." Ron says, easing Draco down to the edge of the bed.

I relax my arms against his shoulders as he pulls me in by the waist, wrapping me in a warmth I'll savour for all of my days. We kiss like it's the first time, or the last. Like all the times between that melt into one to make this last into eternity. I hope to repeat this over and over, to taste his sweet breath and feel his full lips as they change, reforming themselves to meet mine again and again.

We pull ourselves apart for a moment to a wild whistle from Ron and loud sobbing from Mimsy, who is silenced with a wet "Mmph!" I look up to see Dobby has pulled her into a peck on the lips, and her ears flap into contented relaxation.

I didn't know house-elves kissed? Maybe only free ones do.

xoXOXox

Our new elf summons champagne and hor devours, along with a myriad of sweet indulgences to feed far more than eight. Everyone takes their turns spinning each other in circles, Weasel and Potter taking shifts to hold me upright as I cradle my bride in my arms. I reluctantly release her to dance with my mother, hoping she doesn't see my father's face in mine to assault her once more.

She doesn't, instead gracefully placing her hand on my waist and shoulder, swaying to each side as if it's perfectly acceptable to be cavorting away with her son entwined with Harry Potter. It's happening anyway, so accepting it would be a prudent decision to make. My mother is nothing if not prudent.

"I'm proud of you, Draco." she tells me, and for the first time in eras I see her genuine smile. It's blinding in its splendor, and something I created; an action my Fates can never rob me of.

I thank her and kiss her cheek as I implore Potter to sit me down. It's a tiring endeavour to remain situating all of my weight to one side. I'm sure Potter's shoulders could use a break as well. He sits too much on them as it stands.

"Is this our cue?" Dory asks, noticing the fatigue in my features.

"I believe so," I reply "You're welcome to continue the festivities, but I would like some time alone with my bride."

The Weasel mumbles "Disgusting," under his breath while shooting me a mischievous grin. Yes, I'm definitely going to miss his company.

The elves vanish all the food, or relocate it to the sitting room probably. Our family files in to embrace Luna and I, granting us each their congratulations on the way downstairs. I hold Hermione a touch too tightly when her turn comes, hoping to fill her with the sentiments I carry for her.

Potter is the last in line, shaking my hand and holding my wife for a few seconds longer than I'm comfortable with. She doesn't seem to mind, so I let my ire fall away. She chose me, and so long as I fulfill her requirements, he poses no threat to my love.

"We're leaving in the morning." he states with an air of regret.

"What? No." I reply, thinking of Hermione. "She needs to heal, Potter. You can't drag her back into the bloody wilderness in this state!"

"We won't be in the wilderness." Hermione interjects from behind me, walking around to face us once more. "We're going to Hogwarts. There is one last mission we've yet to complete before we end this war once and for all."

"Yeah," the Weasel interjects "And I'd like to bloody well get this over with before anyone else loses their limbs. We keep going at this rate and we won't be good for anything but spare parts or a sack race, mate."

"Go," Luna says, even though I want to hide them all away and protect the love so close to my heart. "Finish them. We'll be along as soon as I can patch him up if you still need us."

I suddenly long to have my grandfather's portrait here with us, so he could witness my bride building our fortress amidst the destruction, fighting with the valour of a thousand Gryffindors to right the carnage which has so wrongfully ravaged our peace. At least then he could know one of his heirs carries on the tradition of holding celebrations when it suits our sensibilities.

xoXOXox

A/N:

Yes, yes I know:

"WTF Vine?! There are so many things wrong with this chapter! What is your effing problem, pixie!?"

Listen, Narcissa has already voiced these concerns to me, and, while your concerns are certainly valid, I would ask you to allow me to explain my rationale:

Our characters have lived lives that have them craving stability, power, and something to look forward to. If formally dedicating themselves to each other is how they are able to and choose to express that, please remember this choice is not irrevocable, merely a formal declaration that is not at all required to validate anyone's feelings.

While we are talking about problematic messages, I am always down to have thought provoking conversations about the themes and topics discussed in my fics. PM me if you would like to talk.

Please review. I want to know what you think. No need to worry about how long the review is or if what you say is constructive, all I want is your opinion, even if it's just an emoji.

Thanks,

Carry on,

Vine


	21. For the Caged Bird

_A/N: My apologies for the multiple updates on this one. I got a little publish-happy as my everlasting patience started to wane. I've made some clarity edits and will remove all of the non-credit ANs when this fic is complete._

_Vine_

I suppose it's a good thing I'm not squeamish when it comes to blood and other such things people find unsettling. It would be a useful skill as a doctor, or a murderer if I ever had such inclinations. Hermione is not so lucky. As we pour over the two ancient anatomy books in Mrs Tonks collection, she turns a faint shade of green, squirming and shaking her head in intervals. I hate that she's put herself in such a disagreeable position so soon after what she has endured, but her help is invaluable nonetheless.

There is a myriad of ways to get Draco's leg back together, but none of them is pleasant, quick, or simple. We learn Bellatrix cursed Draco with a bleeding hex. Her last act on this earth was meant to ensure her nephew - or whoever she thought he was - would die with her, rendering the leg he lost of no use for reattachment. That makes this task more difficult, but what is one more impossible thing to bring into reality?

Conjuring a leg from scratch seems out of the question. They are simply too difficult; too many calculations to make about bone density, weight distribution and nerve endings to allow him to walk. If we had more time I would try it, but Ron and Harry - Ron especially - seem anxious to get to Hogwarts to find whatever it is they are looking for. He and Harry have been arguing incessantly about the logistics of it all, and whether to find what they're seeking first or storm the Manor to slaughter the snake Nagini. That seems like a terrible idea, and I told them such. I digress - If I want Hermione's help, we'll have to work fast. Besides, with Narcissa missing, it's only a matter of time before Death Eaters start searching for her, and we'll be in danger all over again. I suppose the danger never really left, it only hid behind the Black wards with us.

I could possibly duplicate his left leg and make the necessary adjustments for the other side, but feet are difficult, and I have no idea how to reverse the positioning. The spell books lack for answers on imposing shapes. I suppose it hasn't been thought an important function until today.

It can't be as difficult as it seems. Muggles do it all the time without even using magic. That brings up a good question. I look up at sickly Hermione.

"How do Muggles do it?"

She is impaled by the question, staring at me as if I'd slapped her in the face.

"Uh… They - we - use synthetic materials, plastic and metal and whatnot."

"But how do you get the shape?"

She thinks for a moment.

"Cast a mould, I believe. Outline the shape then fill it with whatever they use to make it."

A torch lights up in both of our minds. Without saying much, we return to his severed leg, beginning to cast tiny duplication spells on the bones. The nerves probably weren't affected by the bleeding curse, so we copy those too. The blood vessels and muscles I can handle, all the tendons and ligaments and pieces to hold it together. I hollow out the bone marrow and replace that too, trying with all my imagination and every drop of hope I have to get it to function properly. We test it out, Hermione vomits, and as expected, we eventually have something we can use.

Draco for his part closes his eyes in concentration while we reattach his limb. I know it's been difficult for him to rely on others for help, even for only a day. Hopefully, it hasn't been long enough for him to forget how to walk. Hermione and I brace him underneath his arms. He stands uneasily but stands nonetheless. He takes his first step, almost falling, leaning into Hermione and me as we nearly fall with him.

"I promise my sobriety isn't in question," he jokes trying to make light of the situation, giving me a hint of his heart-melting smile. My chest puffs with his pride.

"Keep trying, darling," I encourage, a pain hitting my heart as I imagine Tonks' baby doing this same task in a few months.

Before long, he's walking on his own across the room. He stumbles occasionally, leaning on the wall for support. I offer to make him a cane until he regains his balance, but he refuses my offer with a scowl. His father's image still burns holes in his reasoning, which is quite understandable. He may never completely wash the stain of Lucius out of his own beautiful features.

"Thank you," he tells us "for holding me up."

"It's no problem darling. I'm glad I was here," I return.

Hermione collapses on the bed, breathing hard and covered in sweat.

"Yeah," she pants "Happy to help."

I don't think "happy" is what she meant exactly, but who am I to say what she's feeling? I bring her a cup of water and a tray of chocolate biscuits. She hides in the lavatory for some time afterwards to gather herself.

xoXOXox

The Weasel stands in front of me, walking backwards down the stairs as I stumble forward. I can't remember ever stumbling before, not in this sense. It's unpalatably humbling at minimum, but not nearly as humiliating as laying in bed unable to assist my wife and family.

"Oi, ferret, you'll be back on a broom in no time at this rate," he says with a genuine smile, holding his arms out as he expects me to come colliding into him.

I don't, as I focus on taking my time to studiously place one foot in front of the other. As soon as we're off the stairs, a familiar wave of accomplishment hits me. I've caught the snitch in my mind as I enter the sitting room to raucous applause from the Weasel and my Luna. She throws her arms around me, nearly knocking me off balance as the Weasel hastily tosses a hand across my shoulder to steady me.

"Merlin, Luna! Control yourself, witch! He is a fragile, delicate water lily right now. He can't handle a love so fierce!" he mocks.

I must say I disagree entirely. Without her overt affection, I would have perished long before now - at my own hand no less.

"So, Hogwarts?" I ask.

"No, no, absolutely not! We don't start these talks on an empty stomach!" the Weasel admonishes, slapping his abdomen heartily as he saunters into the kitchen to find the feast the elves have prepared for us.

It suddenly, painfully occurs to me that for the majority of my life, I have treated these two who have had access to my sustenance with utter disdain. The wave of shame is strong, but not nearly as potent as the worry for what they'll feed me now they're free to do as they wish. As such, I cast a myriad of detection charms over the meat and bread, hoping silently there is no elvin magic to mask poisons. It would truly be a shame to survive all I have only to die over lunch.

The room has been expanded to accommodate everyone present for this meal. Around the table in order we have two wanted, one hiding, two dead, one missing, two outcasts, and one yet to be born. In this mashup of fugitives, criminals, and victims of circumstance, I've never felt more at home.

"Thank you," I tell both elves as I situate myself into the chair beside Luna.

"Oh, no, this is not for Mr Draco," Dobby interjects, snatching the plate away from me. It's a bit jarring to have a house-elf behave in such an uncouth manner. I abide it - because again, my sustenance depends on my self-control. Dobby turns to Mimsy, who looks at him aghast with confusion. "Mr Draco is a ferret. Ferrets don't eat human food! Ferrets eat cats!" he squeals, and the entire table erupts in laughter. Even my mother breaks her stoicism to snicker under her hand as my plate is returned to me.

The Weasel reaches out to bump knuckles with the elf who strolls haughtily away and begins cleaning the dishes.

So many unanswered questions linger in the air between us, but I can't be bothered to answer them now. Instead, we make small talk about gardenias and marigolds, wedding dress preservation and how long until the baby comes. It could have been what it's like to have a typical family gathering, for a typical family. I treasure it, savouring every morsel of my mother's symbolism about flowers and Luna's explanations of perfume bases. I even listen attentively as Dory asks questions about what Luna did with her hair for the wedding, and as Hermione dissects the components and shortcomings of Sleek Eazy. I never knew being beautiful could be such a chore. We go on like this for some time, comments about Quidditch interlaced with the devouring of fruit and tea. For a brief moment, I forget our lives hang in the balance.

After Andi and Mother have profusely complimented the food - nevermind that neither of them has taken more than a few bites - the air once again grows heavy with uncertainty.

"So, Hogwarts," I begin once more, reluctantly taking up the mantle of the person to shatter our contented revelry.

"Yeah," Potter says "About that… Hermione is a bit under the weather. I think whatever they did to heal you has her out of sorts after what happened yesterday."

"I'll be fine!" Hermione insists, the biting retort lacking in her usual concentrated fervour.

"We need you at your best, Hermione." Potter implores, a touch of softness I hadn't seen from him until now showing up in his voice.

"Potter's right," I say, gagging a bit at how easily the words flow from my mouth. "Why don't you stay here until you feel up to a proper hex?"

"She's always up to hexing." the Weasel grumbles under his breath.

The argument Hermione has poised never comes as she puts her hand to her mouth to dash out of the kitchen. Potter follows her with his eyes but doesn't make a move to chase her.

"It's fine, mate." the Weasel tells him "I'll go ahead of you. Bring her when you can."

"We don't have time," Potter hisses. Imbecile.

"The proper response is "Thank you," Potter," I instruct. "Don't you think I would love to be in your position? To protect my wife, mother, aunt, and cousins somewhere away from that madhouse? Keep her safe."

"So you're coming with me, mate?" the Weasel asks needlessly.

"Of course I'm coming, idiot," I reply.

"I'm coming too." Luna interjects "Gingers have to stick together, and my middle name is Ginger, after all."

I hate that I'd never thought to ask before. Hermione returns, her face paled from the undoubted bout of sickness.

"Excuse me," she says "but don't you think you ought to make sure you're completely adjusted to your new leg before plunging yourself into the middle of a hoard of people who would just as soon kill you as look at you, Draco?"

She has a point. I should at minimum ensure I can run and jump, maybe even do a few practise rounds on a broom before departing.

"I will," I reply, turning to make my way to the back garden to explore my impeded equilibrium.

Mother stands, halting me in my tracks as she glares with the ice of a year-long frost.

"Well, Draco Lucius Granger and Luna Ginger Granger, I find it reprehensible that you think me so fickle as to let my son and daughter-in-law risk their lives while I abide here worrying myself thin."

"We have to go, Mother,"

"I know this, Draco, and I will be accompanying you,"

"No!" I shout, pounding my fists into the table "I'm not going to lose you again!"

"Draco," she says, her voice transitioning into the softest velvet, "You will never lose me, my love."

I hear exactly what she doesn't say: the words she would use to console me as a boy -

'We'll never be apart, Draco, for when we look up, we'll see each other in the stars.'

"Please, Mother…" I beg, knowing it is of no use. "Once Potter returns, the Dark Lord will surely follow. What if you come across Father?" the word coats my tongue in bitterness.

"I doubt your father is in any shape to fight, Draco. If he is, and if he crosses me, he's made his choice."

Aunt Andi visibly lightens at my mother's words, shedding a bit of her solemn mask to emanate pure joy for a breath. I'd like to feel pain at Mother's implications that my father has probably been tortured into unfitness after Potter's escape and Bellatrix's demise. I wish to feel sorry for him, but I don't; I can't. As Mother stated, he has made his choices. Over and over, day by day, he chose to dig the grave he will lie in.

"Lady Malfoy," Potter intones "If you are going with us we'll need a vow of loyalty. If you see your husband and run to him it could cost us all our lives, including Luna and Draco. I'm sure you understand."

"I understand perfectly," Mother defiantly states. She holds out her hand to Potter who clasps it with enough force to send my blood boiling in my veins. "On my magic."

xoXOXox

"Luna," Harry says, once again the general of our hodgepodge resistance, "Will you follow me, please?"

I kiss Draco's hand, letting it go as he and Ron make their way to the back garden and I walk away with Harry. We arrive in the far bedroom he's been sharing with Hermione, where he pulls out the pouch Dobby had yesterday.

"That uh, that cloak I told you about…"

"Yes?"

"Dobby brought it along," he says, digging into his mokeskin pouch to pull out a shimmering fabric. "Here,"

The cloak flows as smooth as water through my hands. It's like nothing I've ever seen. It leaves the scenery completely undisturbed as my hand disappears beneath it.

"Take this, and let me know where you all cross into Hogwarts so I don't muck it up when I arrive."

"Thank you, Harry. You must have quite a bit of confidence that we won't die out there, giving me this."

"All the confidence I have. Please prove me right," he replies squeamishly.

"I will," I say, returning to him every bit of assuredness he's given me.

As Harry pulls me into his arms I can practically hear his thoughts. He thinks so loudly at times.

"I love you," say the arms tightening around my shoulders, "...and thank you, and please don't die."

"I love you too, and we'll all try our best, okay? Our very best." I say out loud.

We part ways as he goes to check in with Hermione and I return to Draco and Ron with the cloak.

"Do you know how to use this?" I ask Ron, who stares flabbergasted against the wall across from Draco.

"Used it a million times. Never without Harry, though," he replies, uncertainly.

"Do you know how it works?" I ask, reassuring myself that Ron has survived every adventure had under this bewildering piece of magic so far.

"Of course I don't know how it works!" he replies with a nervous laugh. "It was supposedly made by Death herself! Do I look like I take tea with the reaper?" Draco eyes him curiously at the comment. "Never mind, don't answer that," he adds.

I don't take time to correct him about Death and reapers being different folklore. I understood the premise of his statement, so it doesn't make much difference in this instance.

"How did you do, kitten? Any falls or broken bones?" I ask Draco. Ron snorts.

"I performed proficiently, as expected," Draco replies, shooting Ron an irritated glare.

"Yeah, if you call running headlong into a fence proficient!" Ron replies, laughing at Draco's expense.

"Shove off, Weasel. You were shooting sleeping hexes at me! I had to look while running!"

"Next time you know to look where you're running to!"

Narcissa walks in, carrying her head high, holding a slightly less invisible invisibility cloak borrowed from her niece. She casts it over her head, slipping her tiny hand into mine.

"Alright, then." I say, intertwining my right hand with Draco's "Let's go."

Hermione wobbles into the room, still sluggish and a bit green, but rather a glowing sort of green, like a particularly vibrant turtle.

"See you on the other side," she says; then, turning to Ron - "I love you."

"I love you too, 'Mione," comes rushing out of Ron as he takes two large steps to reach for her. She nods as he whispers something in her ear before returning to throw the cloak over the three of us.

"What, no blowing kisses to us, Granger?" Draco asks Hermione, sarcastically hurt.

"Sod off, Granger," Hermione replies through a weak smile. I'll assume she was talking to him and not me.

"Whoo! Right then, let's do this!" Ron shouts, gripping Draco's wrist to plunge us into darkness.

xoXOXox

We apparate into the Hogsmeade village shortly before nightfall. This cloak is disconcerting. Unlike a disillusionment, there isn't so much as a vibration across my skin to communicate that I am still physical. We're completely transparent, more so than even a ghost. It feels almost as if we don't exist at all. Mother is disturbingly more noticeable as she stands under Dory's Auror-assigned invisibility cloak alongside Luna.

"Point me to Hogwarts," Luna whispers so softly only her wand and I can hear. As the wand rotates and she takes the first step into the bare street, a piercing scream shatters the dusk. The sound goes mute to be replaced by a roguish timbre from across the street.

"Blasted fuckers breaking curfew."

I know that voice. A door is slammed and boots pound on the wet cement. Another, less recognizable degenerate speaks.

"Oi, don't get your knickers in a twist McNair. Send the dementors to chase the idiots. Greyback'll clean up what's left of 'em in the morning."

"Yeah, but what if it's Potter? Then there won't be anything left to clean up of us!" comes the rough voice of Walden McNair

"If it's bleedin' Potter he'll be under his wrapper. Accio cloak!" the other degenerate incants.

Our cloak holds fast, but the one covering my mother flies into his hand even as she tries to clinch it.

"Narcissa?" McNair asks, confused.

Fuck.

"Walden!" she shrieks in a flawless imitation of being overjoyed to see the brute. "My apologies," she says in a perfectly flustered voice, smoothing her robes of imperceptible wrinkles as she makes haste to approach him. The Weasel's nails bite so hard into my wrist I'm certain my skin will break. She doesn't grant McNair a breath to speak as she continues.

"Thank Circe you're here!" she sighs in a facsimile of relief. "They disguised as my Draco and stole me from my home!"

"Who is they, Narcissa?" he growls without a touch of sympathy.

"I… don't know exactly. Some rogue Aurors, I suspect. They had me blindfolded the entire time. I only managed to escape because one put his wand in my face, so I snatched it and stunned him!"

I take the cue from my mother as more robed figures start flooding out of the building.

"Stupefy!" I shout and McNair goes pummeling to the ground.

Luna and the Weasel follow my lead and start knocking back Death Eaters as I break my disguise to run towards my mother. They keep pace brilliantly, grabbing onto me as I pull her forward and attempt to disapparate us. The air turns to a solid wall against the anti-apparition charms. Fuck. It's such a basic trap to be this effective. Make a cage your prey can get into but can't escape from.

"Run!" I yell as Luna summons my cousin's cloak, throwing it over my mother with a sticking charm as we head for the high ground.

"Protego Maxima!" Shouts the Weasel, jogging backwards beneath the cloak as dark spells fly from behind us.

We make it to a small alley outside an establishment frequented by my father's sycophants. We pause here for a breath as the deplorables seem to have lost us in the confusion.

"That was a good run, Lady Malfoy," the Weasel pants out to my mother.

"Well, Mr Weasely," Mother says, swallowing her saliva in an attempt to catch her breath. "I have not made it to my age by neglecting my physical fitness."

A visceral, permeating cold seeps deep in my bones as she speaks. All of my hope for survival vanishes in an instant as thoughts of Pansy being devoured and Theo running away in cowardice assault my better judgement. I hear Luna's voice ring "I may die tomorrow" in my mind as all-encompassing darkness falls around me. The dementors have found us.

xoXOXox

Boots pound relentlessly on the wet pavement much too close to us for comfort.

"Oi, you fucking lost 'em, Rosier, you bloody cuntsack!"

"I lost 'em? You let them take Lucius's gods-damned wife, again! Do you know what we could have done with the galleons from that reward?"

"Fuck that reward. I never liked the bitch. Thinks her pussy's coated in gold."

"Probably is, knowing Lucius."

The exchange makes my stomach churn, talking about Narcissa like that; like she's nothing but another artefact in Lucius's vault; like she's disposable because of the choices she makes for herself. If they had been paying attention, they would know how brave she is, how loyal, how ridiculously intelligent. Oh well, loss for them; she's my mother in law now, and I've noticed.

The temperature drops violently as tangible hopelessness surrounds us. It's deeper than the chill of the melted snow, more sinister than the wet, frigid air.

"Dementors," Ron whispers as the clouds go dark.

Casting patronuses will surely give away our position. We'll have to wait for the Death Eaters to move farther away. I clench Draco's hand as I think of his face when biting into a green apple and the joyful tears he shed with Hermione.

The sloshing of boots and ill-timed curses start fading in the opposite direction. A few more minutes and we will be able to chase the dementors away. I can hear their rattling wheeze now and see the pitch-blackness that swallows every beam of light as they turn the corner down the alley to glide towards us.

Draco's soft lips the first time we kissed start to fade from my mind to be replaced by my mother falling lifelessly to the ground beneath her own spell.

_'That happened a long time ago. It's gone now.'_ I force myself to think, even as the endless despair hits me like it was today.

"Expecto patronum!" I hear Ron incant, a feisty little dog running into the oncoming void. The dementors don't seem to be phased as they keep gliding towards us. There are many of them, but there are plenty of us.

_'There are plenty of us here and there will surely be more waiting at Hogwarts. We may be outnumbered, but we are far from alone.'_ I use this thought as the catalyst to drive me forward.

"Expecto patronum!" I say, my hare bounding forth into the blackness.

It stalls the dementors in their place, but they don't retreat. We can't turn around and risk running back into the Death Eaters. They'll be prepared for us this time. Narcissa is struggling beside me to create a patronus with her niece's wand. She casts and casts again, but all that comes of it is a small violet mist. Even her happy memories are clouded by anguish, it seems.

"Cast it, kitten," I say in Draco's ear.

"I… I can't…" he replies, trembling.

"Do you want to lose your soul?" I ask, pulling him in to kiss me like tomorrow will never come.

After a moment, he breaks from me, raising his wand. He closes his eyes in the utmost concentration. All at once, I have no doubt he'll be able to do it.

"Expecto patronum," he incants calmly, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

A brilliant dragon roars from the end of his wand, shooting a stream of white flames so bright they devour all of the darkness in one breath.

"Oi, did you hear that?" comes the gruff voice of one of the Death Eaters from down the street, even as Draco's dragon chases the dementors around the corner and out of sight.

"Bloody hell, a fucking dragon!" the other one shouts.

The Death Eaters are running towards us now, the splashing of their boots growing closer by the second as locks clink and unhitch in the door across from us. This may be where we end, together.

"Get inside you blithering idiots! I'll hold them off." Comes the voice of Headmaster Dumbledore if the headmaster had taken up smoking pipe tobacco from a young age.

I pull Draco hard from the right and grab Narcissa from my left to drag them across to the doorway as fast as my feet will carry me. Ron jerks Draco from the other side, still holding fast to his wrist. The man standing before us looks like he could be a relative of the late headmaster, albeit one who has given up bathing and proper nutrition.

"Up the stairs with you! And hide like your life depends on it!" Smokey Dumbledore instructs us as we cross the threshold.

I cast a silencing spell on our feet as we run quickly up the rickety wooden staircase. The four of us shove ourselves into the cramped wardrobe of a dirty hotel room as Narcissa begins casting a plethora of warding charms. I force my breath to remain quiet as I strain to listen to the argument downstairs.

"...it was a bloody dragon Aberforth! I know you heard it!" begins one of the Death Eaters.

"A dragon? My patronus is a goat, you idiot. It wasn't me,"

"Don't play coy with us! It was Narcissa Malfoy! You've kidnapped her! Or you know who has!"

"Bloody hell, you are a sight stupider than you look, Rosier, and that's quite an accomplishment. Don't you think if I'd try to snatch Malfoy with a wand on her I'd be dead by now?"

"You'll be dead by morning if you don't start talking!"

"Kill me then, you incompetent bastard! Then you won't have any place to run your little side-money away from your boss. Let him pimp every galleon from you like he does with Lord Peacock."

"Malfoy's galleons are going to pay for his wife's return at the moment, which I'm sure you know."

"I don't know and don't care what your barmy lot get up to. Isn't that why you come here? My endless discretion?"

"If you're as discreet as you play at I'm sure you won't mind us taking a look around?"

"Look all you want, you won't find anything. I dare say your worthless time would be better spent finding Potter before you get Crucio'd into eternity."

"It's a good thing you don't get a say in where my time would be rather spent."

Heavy boots land on the creaking staircase. They plod down the hall as the argument continues.

"I don't need you following me like an insipid dog, Aberforth!"

"Like hell you don't! You slimy bastards aren't going to steal from me on my watch!"

The door to the adjacent room opens. I can hear Rosier tossing about furniture as he searches all around it. We all hold our breath while the wardrobe attached to the back of this one is opened and prodded through. I'm not sure if it's my heart or Draco's beating so loudly as the handle to our room is turned. The door flies open with a slam against the wall.

"Watch the interior, arsehole." says the grizzly voice of Aberforth.

The most disturbing sizzle reaches my ears to crawl across my skin as the wards are breached. Every hair on my arms stand up as a scream of agony and the smell of searing flesh fills the air.

"The hell's going on up there?" resounds from downstairs, then more heavy footsteps.

The door squeaks closed, flying open seconds later. A grunt is let out as McNair is pushed into the wards, burning to death with his companion. A noxious smoke leaks into the cracks of the wardrobe. I attempt to vanish it, but it continues to seep in.

"Clear," Aberforth says with finality.

Draco places a trembling hand on the doorknob, turning it slowly with his wand outstretched.

xoXOXox

I peek into the smoke-filled room underneath the invisibility cloak. My hands shake violently from the shock of being nearly apprehended; from the danger of the chase. I endeavour not to look at the charred bodies of Rosier and McNair, instead staring headlong at our saviour. It takes all of my fading will not to get sick as the irrepressibly twinkling eyes of the headmaster stare back at me.

"Who are you?" I ask with much more assuredness than I'm currently feeling.

"I think I should be the one asking that question given you're the one hidden, my boy."

Mother places her hand on my shoulder, imploring me to step aside. I do as I'm bid, and watch as she appears from under the cloak.

"It's me, Abe. My son, his wife, and the youngest Weasley son are with me. Whatever my husband is offering for my return, I'll ensure you receive double for not turning me over to those vile creatures."

"This is an interesting turn of events," the barkeep grumbles. "Bloody good charm you've got there, Cissa. Saved me a couple hexes on those spineless bastards."

"Thank you, Abe. I'll do my best to repay you. I owe you all of our lives."

"You lot have to get out of here. Once old Mouldy Shorts gets wind that these two don't come when summoned he'll set the world on fire. He's been especially unhinged since your sister died. My condolences, by the way. Not that I'll miss the bitch."

"No condolences needed. Your feelings are mutual."

The barkeep nods solemnly.

"Throw that cloak back on and come downstairs Cissa. We need to find you somewhere safe; far, far away from that disgusting peacock of yours. I'm glad you've finally managed to escape him."

Mother's face falls for the barest moment before she locks her occluding shields in place.

"It's appreciated, Abe. You have no idea how difficult it was." The words twist a knife in my heart as she means them from the depths of her aching soul.

Aberforth disillusions the bodies and levitates them out the window and down the street. Greyback and his crew will find them eventually. I hold fast to Luna and the Weasel as we walk downstairs. It wouldn't do to break my face accidentally after having survived this unfortunate circumstance unscathed.

Once we reach the grimey bar, Aberforth gestures to a row of foggy beer steins hanging from hooks against the wall.

"You don't want a Malfoy property, do you Cissa? Maybe the old Black cottage? Or I can get you in with Mistress Zabini. Old whore charges ridiculous fees but I'm sure she'll do a favour for your boy."

I take the steins to be illegal portkeys by the dubious quality of his expression.

"Actually, Abe, I need a different favour entirely." Mother says softly.

Aberforth leans against the bar, staring in our direction with eyes I'd hoped to never see again.

"Speak up, Cissa. I can't hear over the clang of your insanity," he states without inflexion.

Mother laughs a delicate laugh at this, one reserved for old friends and people who understand unspoken words.

"I need you to get us into Hogwarts."

The abrasiveness the barkeep displays vanishes in an instant at my mother's sombre request. He seems to age ten years as he wipes his leathered hand down his already time-worn face to stroke his grey beard.

"You always were the wild one, Cissa. Should have been a Gryffindor, I tell you," he says with a tone of unmitigated defeat.

He looks up to a portrait of a starry-eyed blonde girl hanging above the bar.

"You know what to do," he tells her.

"I'll never be able to repay you, Abe." Mother chokes with tears in her eyes.

"Come back to me when this madness is over, and we'll discuss repayment then," he says, grasping my mother's hand to place a kiss to the back of her knuckles like the finest pureblood gentleman. "Perhaps we'll be friends again once that poof you call a husband is rotting in Azkaban."

Mother returns the sentiment with a kiss on the cheek as we step through the portrait into the unknown.


	22. Dares

_Warnings: Ravenclaws getting into theories which inconveniently become more practical than theoretical at a terribly inopportune time, as they often do in reality.__Enjoy,__Vine_

The dripping water from seeping aquifers plops to the ground and sizzles in the dim torchlight as we walk down the corridor behind the portrait. We march in single file: Ron taking up the lead with me following him, Draco behind me and Narcissa at the end. This order is unspoken but fortunate, perhaps intentional. Ron can speak for us and Narcissa can ward all of us if we meet less than friendly others.

What others might we meet? Will we be greeted by Professor Snape? Or will it be the Carrows? Will Narcissa be able to talk her way out of this again if we run into danger? How will they respond to seeing two dead people walking around? Maybe we can glamour ourselves and claim to be ghosts. Will the DA accept that Draco and Narcissa mean them no harm? I'm so glad we got that mark off of him.

We continue to walk for a long while down the never-ending corridor. I'm fine with the long walk; I'm in no rush to see the school that was once my home in the state it's in now. I wonder if this is how Muggles feel going back to a home that's been destroyed by some disaster: to enter a place that was supposed to be sacred only to see it mangled and dismembered; taken over by forces out of their control. At least in the magical world, we have a chance to fix the damage. The Muggles would have to build again from scratch.

We finally reach a door that looks exactly like the back of a picture frame. All the moisture of the corridor vanishes around the perfectly dry brown paper wrapping and hanging steel wire.

"Stay back until I call for you. Here goes nothing," Ron says on a deep inhale.

He peeks his head across the portrait hole. Friendly faces must be on the other side because he steps through, calling out to whoever is within.

"Oi! Wands down, spell-happy bastards! It's me!"

A chorus of "Ron!" and "You've come!" meets my ears from inside. I give a sigh of relief as I hear Neville and Parvati's voices in the chaos. Remembering Harry's instructions to let him know where we entered from, I take out my galleon to send the message "Stag". Once "here" is returned, I charm "Hog's Head portrait" onto the coin. He replies "coming soon," but doesn't say when 'soon' is supposed to be.

"I'm offended you lot are so surprised! Did you think I was going to run for the high country?" Ron chastises "I even brought friends!"

"Friends?" comes a male voice that sounds like Dean.

"Yeah, so keep those wands down and don't hex the ferret. Come on in, Luna!"

I open the portrait to see many of my classmates-turned-soldiers. Dean and Seamus and Neville, Padma, Parvati, and Cho, Lee and Ginny and several younger students I've never met. The room has turned itself into a comfortable green meadow, picnic tables filled with baskets of food situated along the perimeter with a plethora of colourful hammocks hanging from a thin row of trees behind them. In the corners are little alcoves of giant mushrooms shaded by bell-shaped flowers the size of umbrellas.

"Hello everyone," I greet "It's been some time. Glad to see you're all still alive."

Several of them tackle me in a hug as Ron rushes to the entryway for Draco and Narcissa to step through.

"Malfoy!" Neville shouts, requiring me to shoot up a protego as a stunning spell flies towards Draco.

"Oi! I said wands down!" Ron yells in Neville's face, shoving him back into Seamus.

"It's Malfoy!" Neville argues.

"No, arsehole, it's Granger," Ron corrects, once again yelling and puffing like a particularly flustered red-bird.

"S-sorry 'Mione," Neville says to Draco, who for his part grants him an unapologetic sneer.

I make brief eye contact with Neville who looks around confused.

"He's not Hermione, he's my husband. We took Hermione's name," I inform him.

He blinks in stunned silence, jerking his head back as if he's been doused with cold water.

"It has been a while, hasn't it?" he quietly asks no one in particular.

I refuse to stay here defending my choices when we have a mission to complete. Ron seems to be in agreement.

"Alright, you beautiful bunch of tossers and misfits," he shouts above the murmuring chaos "as much as I'd love to stand around talking about the newest additions to the DA all night, we have a job to do. Lady Malfoy and Draco are on our side; that's all you need to know. Now that bit of business is sorted, who has any information about trinkets Rowena Ravenclaw might have owned?"

We spend the next twenty minutes or so discussing Ravenclaw's lost diadem, what it looks like, and all the can'ts of the pursuit - how long it's been lost, who lost it and where - before we get to the truly important bit.

"Well, if the bloody thing is lost, how are we supposed to find it?" Ron asks red-faced and flustered.

It's amazing how narrow people's imaginations can be when they are standing in a room which will grant all of their heart's desires.

"Ask Hogwarts," I reply.

xoXOXox

It's a terrible inconvenience shuffling all of the members of Dumbledore's blasted Army into the chamber behind the portrait. I get half-arsed sneers and comically inadequate looks of disdain from most of them as I lift them into the dark. I close the portrait with more force than necessary when they are all sufficiently far away from me.

The four of us - Luna, Weasel, Mother, and me - duck under our invisibility cloaks and cast notice-me-not charms all along the corridor outside the Room of Hidden Things. Luna paces the length of the hall under nothing but a disillusionment as Mother stands watch at one end with the Weasel and me at the other. After my nerves have withstood more waiting than I thought possible, a door appears. Luna walks through, returning almost instantly with a silver tiara encrusted with sapphires.

Growing up in the Manor, I have been subjected to a plethora of dark artefacts, including the one recently retrieved from my body. I know well the frigid numbness of accursed jewellery and the uninhibited danger inherent of magic carpets. I've touched the hem of Death's robe against the acidic burn of Bella's cursed dagger. Therefore, I can say with utmost assuredness this crown is imbued with the darkest, vilest magic I have ever felt.

As Luna walks closer with the terrible accessory, a fit of rolling, hissing anger boils up from nowhere and the depths of my soul all at once. All I can see is Luna's doe eyes at Potter, my father dropping to his knees for the Dark Lord, my mother abandoning me in my time of need. My skin crawls trying to escape from my body as my heart pounds and hands shake with the need to cause unmitigated destruction. I call forth my Occlumency shields to fight back against the jadedness and ire forming in my basest nature knowing they will hold only for a moment against the unrelenting storm. The hate must be undone from the outside in.

Before the rage blinds me further, I shout a command towards anyone who will listen.

"Get that thing away from me! Destroy it!"

The Weasel acts quickly, pulling the sword from the string knapsack he carries on his back and swinging it at the relic. With a scream of pure torture, black blood oozes from it with the stomach-churning smell of sulfur and carrion. With its destruction the rage welling inside me dissipates all at once, leaving a gaping void of nothingness in its wake.

"What was that?" I ask Luna. If anyone should know, it's her.

She looks at me with her wide-sky eyes so full of things I wish to comprehend.

"It's what happens when a person has knowledge without compassion," she says as if that's supposed to explain anything of relevance. Perhaps it does.

"I'll tell you all about it when the party's over, mate," the Weasel sighs in exasperation. "For now, we still have a giant snake to kill. Another one." he adds, rolling his eyes.

"About that," Luna interjects, casting her gaze at the Weasel as Mother paces back and forth wishing for the previous room to return. "You may not want to kill her. She's a person - an animagus or something."

The Weasel furrows his brows and quirks his lips in an expression between confusion and disgust before resolving some conflict in his mind.

"Well, person or not, she is full of the same nasty magic as that tiara, so she's going to have to take one for the team if we're going to get rid of Old No-Nose."

A door opens on the wall for my mother who is followed by the Weasel inside. Luna continues the conversation as if her ideas have not been once again completely disregarded. The gaping hole inside begins to fill with animosity for the idiots who ignore her wisdom, as well as a swell of pride that she trusts me to not renounce her.

"Harry can talk to snakes. I think he might be able to get some information from her. Maybe we can get the magic out without killing her. Or we could catch her and have her taken away from humanity somewhere secure after You-Know-Who is defeated. Even if she turns out to be so dangerous we absolutely have to take her life, it would be worth a conversation first to see what she knows, don't you think?"

"It's never a bad idea to have more information," I reply competently, unlike my compatriot.

We slip back into the room of hidden things to retrieve the waiting imbeciles. Mother and the Weasel are already escorting the remainder of the resistance into the room, plus one. Notably, not plus two.

"Harry!" the pandering masses shriek, the Weasel's flame-haired little sister the loudest of them all.

I stalk through the small crowd to make my way to Potter. I don't wrestle with niceties and demeanour. He hasn't earned that right from me.

"Where's Hermione?" I demand knowing we'll never make it through this alive without her leadership.

"She's uh… She's… not coming," Potter says with a ghastly yellow face and a hint of defeated shame.

"Why?" I question sharply, instantly becoming impatient with his unhelpful vaguery and ill-sorted communication.

I'm cut short as a rapping comes from the inside of the portrait door which cracks a hair to reveal my Aunt Andi. My heart thrums with the beat of a thousand flying spells as the confusion turns to rage. How dare Potter drag my remaining family onto the battlefield where she doesn't belong, without our most competent defender no less?!

"Will someone tell me what the bloody hell is going on?!" I ask furiously.

"She's um… She's uh…" Potter stutters incoherently. It's painfully obvious he's drowning in overwhelm, smothered by insecurities. So much so that he can't string together a reasonably meaningful array of words.

"She's at home with Dory," Andi interjects "The baby will be born today."

This information leaves me in disconcerted silence momentarily. My cousin is delivering a child - her first child - with no healer present, without even her mother for comfort. I control my outrage to inject a modicum of respect for my aunt into my voice.

"Then what are you doing here?" I ask her.

"There's not much I can do that Hermione and my son-in-law can't handle. Your forces are down a soldier, the least I could do was to come in her stead."

The elements of this story are not cohesive. Why wouldn't Hermione fight and let Andi stay with Dory?

"Is she still ill?" I ask, my ice-cold logic creeping into my mind to kill all ostensible hope of her health not being seriously deficient after exposure to my aunt's dagger.

Andi's face falls with the most dreadful pity as she looks to Potter, who in turn studies his shoes for a moment before straightening his scrawny spine to pull the words from his bird-breadth chest.

"She's pregnant."

"Dory?"

"Hermione,"

Fuck.

I don't grant Potter the dignity of a response, instead turning to go find Luna and the Weasel. I'll process the absence of my protector and our most competent strategist as we piece together a plan in her stead. For that matter, I'll also have to process how I am to cope with this newest addition to our makeshift band of warriors, what this will mean for Hermione, and what my part will be to support her.

I find my companions seated on outlandishly sized mushrooms in the corner of the room enthralled in a three-way debate with one of the Patil sisters. Luna is speaking when I approach -

"We don't have to kill them, Ron. We can find a way to bind them so they can't call You-Know-Who. There are all sorts of ways to make them unconscious or unmoving at the very least, although keeping someone petrified for too long can be scarring."

"I don't give the tiniest piece of a fuck if they're scarred, Luna! Those bastards want to kill us! Look what they've done to Neville and Dean!" the Weasel shouts.

"In my experience, some of them are complete barbarians, Luna. They torture us for fun. You can't possibly see any use for them." Patil remarks.

I interject -

"What are you three on about?"

Luna looks up, her face lighting with the inquisitive look she gets before we do something insane in its entirety.

"Kitten! I'm so glad you're here. You would be the best person to weigh in on this."

Whatever this concern entails, I'm certain I have no desire to offer my introspection. Alas, my love has requested it and Patil's brows disgustingly land nearly on her nose at Luna's warm greeting, spurring me to want to prove her point wrong at all costs.

"Tell me," I say

"Well," the Weasel haughtily replies, assuming I will see his side of the argument "we need to round up the Death Eaters and sympathizers in the school before Snake-face gets here. We can't have those skull-faced shit-sacks fighting from behind our front lines."

I nod along in agreement as he continues -

"Your lovely, compassionate wife thinks we ought to hold them prisoner."

"Hostages can be quite valuable at times," I conclude.

"Bloody hell, mate! Listen!" the Weasel replies frustratedly, looking deep into my eyes in an attempt to persuade me. "Then we'll have to leave people behind to guard them, and make sure they don't call You-Know-Who right to us!"

He has a point. It will take resources to secure the prisoners; resources that would better serve us by fighting the Death Eaters.

Patil chimes in -

"I can't see You-Know-Who negotiating for their lives. He's not known for compromises."

She too makes a compelling argument.

"But they're people," Luna pleads, "and some of them aren't terrible, like Professor Snape,"

"Bloody hell, not this again…" the Weasel rudely laments.

"He saved my life, Ron!" The volume grows with each statement during Luna's exchange with the Weasel.

"He's letting all of this happen, Luna! Don't you see? He lets the Carrows torture the students! He allowed Umbridge to carve up Harry!"

"What was he supposed to do? You-Know-Who would have done the same to him!"

"But it doesn't make it right though, does it? He could have used that irritatingly bass-filled voice of his to say no!"

This debate can only lead in circles for eternity, so I halt it before my temper gets the better of me.

"Shut it," I lazily implore, going on to explain my stance. "The Carrows and Umbridge are scum of the foulest variety and the world would be at no loss without them as they are. Perhaps they could be rehabilitated after the war, but I wouldn't gamble my life on it by any means."

Luna glares at me.

"You were right alongside them a few months ago, Draco. Who are we to decide if they live or die?"

"This is WAR, Luna!" the Weasel yells, thrusting his open hand in the air to gesture to some invisible presentation of his point.

"And who is running the war, Ron? Us. So it's our job to decide how to execute it. We can do it with dignity, or we can fight like them."

Silence falls over our group as bumbling murmurs continue around us. She's right. We undoubtedly hold the upper hand in this situation, if for nothing but the element of surprise and the choice to do as we will. Will we be the ones to slaughter our assailants? There would be no love lost for me, however, it would be terribly incongruent for me to argue for Godfather's preservation if I agree to kill the rest unapologetically. To those surrounding me, one life is plausibly equal to the other, and it would be difficult if not impossible to convince them otherwise. Each life means a different thing to a different person. If my life had meant nothing to Luna, I would be on the same list of disposables tonight.

"Fine," the Weasel relents, breaking the silence crossing his arms over his chest. "We'll take prisoners where we can, if we can. When this whole thing goes tits up make sure you and the ferrett bring flowers to my grave every year and I want a tin of biscuits on Yule."

"Done," Luna replies triumphantly.

"How do we want to secure them?" Patil asks "Our best chance is to have them unconscious and without their wands, bound, and caged." She stares at each of us with a cold blankness reminiscent of my father. "As an aside, I don't see how those precautions are more humane than death."

"Let them decide on death or Azkaban after the war," I say "Until then, my mother can cast containment wards around them and we can keep them under with Draught of Living Death if we can raid the potions stores. If not, we can always petrify them."

"No need to raid the stores," Luna says "We can ask the room for the Draught and it will send it to us. All we have to do is get the captives back here."

The Weasel rounds up Potter and his glorious band of outcasts to discuss the plan. We divide off in pairs to search the castle for any undesirables as more and more people begin to flow through the portrait. A hoard of gingers I recognize as the Weasel relatives approach, along with the wandmaker Ollivander and several townspeople from Hogsmeade.

"Keep up high," Potter instructs, handing each member a broom. "Stay to their backs; hidden. Their ignorance is your best advantage."

What a delicious irony, Potter discussing ignorance as if he has any authority on the matter.

xoXOXox

People can only understand death for a few moments; right after it happens, when it's directly in our faces, when we are suddenly hit with the reality that there is no turning back - no undoing the final stroke. Death is a permanent end to this temporary circumstance we call life. This is why it is so hard to get people to avoid causing death at all cost, especially when that death might result in their longevity. People inherently fear dying, because it can't be understood experientially but for the smallest window of time, then it disappears as the comprehension takes flight from our minds clean out of our ears.

When Bellatrix Lestrange died - when I killed her - the permanence solidified for only a moment, just long enough for the relief of never seeing her cause harm to another person to manifest. Then it was gone, and I was afraid all over again for everyone who might face the same fate as she did. I know killing Bellatrix saved so many others untold amounts of suffering at her hand, and quite possibly saved my life, Draco's, Hermione's, and Narcissa's. I saw her permanent eradication as the only way out in the terrifying moment as she cackled in a pool of Hermione's blood. I think it's the laughing that did it. That crazed, maniacal joy she derived from hurting my friend. It was the bloodlust I wanted to kill, but I leaned into it instead.

Now, somewhere in the quiet of my mind, I wonder if I made the right decision. Could Bellatrix have been saved, redeemed, taught to feel for other people? Would it have been worth the trouble if she had? What could she have become? Because of what I chose to do the world will never know, and the questions might haunt me forever. I won't make the same poor decision twice if I can help it.

Draco and I mount the brooms the room has provided for us, taking off under a disillusionment to capture as many Death Eaters as possible before You-Know-Who has a chance to arrive. Each team is assigned to a sector of the castle listed on Harry's map where they are to be found roaming about. Draco and I are charged with taking Ravenclaw tower as I know intimately the ins and outs of it.

We stall our broom as we approach the two-floor-high entrance to the tower. Professor Flitwick and Alecto Carrow seem to be bickering far beneath us. We descend to get perilously close to the dark witch as the bronze eagle-shaped door knocker speaks in its shrill tone -

"I live only while I fly – Earth's rough kiss my sudden death."

"A soap bubble," Professor Flitwick replies nonchalantly.

We zoom in on his coat-tails, mussing the air to the tower in the wrong direction as the heavy door booms shut behind us. We fly straight up taking all of the air in the high tower close to us as Alecto frantically scans the space around her for the cause of the disturbance.

"Rather chilly in the castle today, ah Alecto?" Professor Flitwick's high-pitched voice distracts her, bringing her gaze back down to ground level.

"Now," I whisper to Draco.

He casts a silent petrificus at the same time as I incant "somnium". She falls to the floor without so much as a smattering of blood. Professor Flitwick is entirely unperturbed as we fly down to disillusion the dark witch for transport.

"Well done, Luna," his squeaky voice remarks "You two need a better disillusionment charm, however. Had you ran into Snape I dare say you would have been hexed to next Tuesday. May I assist?"

He doesn't wait for my response, instead casting a far superior disillusionment over Draco and me along with the witch laying on the floor.

"There," he says, satisfied "Now why - pray tell - are you waltzing around petrifying our lovely professors, hmm?"

"You-Know-Who is on his way, professor. It's time to ready the students."

"Oh dear, it is about time for that, I suppose. I'd hoped this intrusion wouldn't happen at Hogwarts. Wouldn't want to taint the student's joyful memories…" he trails off in a ramble.

"Professor, we need to transport Carrow to the Room of Requirement." I tell him to drag him back to the topic at hand. "We will be holding all of the prisoners there."

"Quite dangerous, don't you agree? To have these hardened people so near to one another?" he questions.

"No, I don't believe so." I say "We have Narcissa Malfoy erecting their containment wards, and we'll be injecting them with Draught of Living Death to keep them subdued while the fight commences."

"Ah, what an exciting prospect!" he replies, lighting up at the opportunity for new knowledge. "Might I join you? I would so enjoy witnessing the Malfoy warding process in action. One of a kind charms, they are. Injecting, you say? That's a new method. The boy askance from you must be a Slytherin then. I couldn't see you concocting such a dastardly ploy to keep them at bay."

I can feel Draco snarling alongside me, but he doesn't speak, so I respond.

"I agreed to it, Professor. Please try not to be too ashamed of me. I figured it would be the most humane way to keep all of us safe in this poor circumstance, because if they are unconscious they can hardly suffer from their imprisonment."

"Ah, but you missed a fatal flaw in your reasoning, dear girl. You jumped straight to petrification without asking what the prisoner would prefer. That's how I knew it was you, by the by." he quips, gesturing to his head. "Always stalling the danger in its tracks, you are. Liberty and death are two sides of the same coin, you know, and unwilling imprisonment only keeps us floating somewhere in the between spaces."

"I told her that," Draco sighs.

"Ah, Mister Malfoy. How delightful to see you have come to your senses! You really should disguise your voice; it's quite distinctive you know. I've always had hope for you, and I regret this is the first time I've thought it important to tell you so." the professor states, clutching his heart in a gesture of pure elation. "You would have made an excellent Ravenclaw if not for your unfortunate upbringing. Terrible circumstances make snakes of us all, it seems. Not to worry though!" he exclaims, brightening up "Every Ravenclaw needs a Slytherin to guide us."

"Yes, well," I interject, trying once again to stifle my long-winded Professor's tangent. "Could you please do us the favour of escorting Carrow to the Room of Requirement? Not to worry, we'll alert the students and have them evacuate."

"Yes, certainly, my dear girl, I'll assist in any way possible," he confirms "You won't be asking her permission then, I assume?"

The war with myself starts anew with awful bubbles churning in my stomach as I decide on the fate of another human being. How terrible was it, that I was imperiused without my knowledge, even if it was to save my life? What if she requests death over imprisonment? What shall I do if she doesn't agree to the draught and tries to dismantle the wards? What options does one give a person in circumstances such as these?

"No, I won't." I say unsuredly. "I feel more comfortable making this decision for her until the chaos is settled."

"Ah, very well then, my girl. Always averse to risks, you are. That's birthed from fear, as it were. Never wanting to step into the unknown…"

"Thank you, Professor," I reply because he agrees, because he understands. "Will you summon Professor McGonnagal on your way out? We'll be needing her help soon."

"Indeed, dear girl, indeed." he says, levitating Alecto out of the room while summoning a Patronus at the same time. "Keep your head up, dear boy." Flitwick remarks, turning to Draco. "There is a bright, bright future waiting for you on the other side of these walls." he says in parting.

"I will," Draco confirms, no more promise needed than his solemn word.

xoXOXox

_A/N: Credits__The riddle at RC tower is from __My dearest Dash is once again my beautiful beta. She has updated all of her fics recently. Action items: please check them all out at Tempest E. Dashon and thank her in the reviews.__Vine_


	23. Till The Current Ends

T/W: This chapter is gruesome (for me, at least). PM me for a synopsis if you prefer, or stop reading after "Voldemort!"

If you decide to read it, I hope it gives you pause to think of all the things that could have gone better for our characters.

Vine

We return to the Room of Hidden Things to find several degenerates lying blankly behind a severe containment charm. The wards are so hot a blast of warm air assaults me as I open the door. Luna's palpable absence has my senses tuned to an excruciating degree as I pine for her voice. The screech of Flitwick vexatiously cuts through the hundred or so others murmuring their battle preparations.

"Oh, you always were terribly excellent at charms, Narcissa! Horribly, unfairly superb at the craft!" I see Mother nodding along politely with not even a trace of encumberment in her features. She responds to him with something I can't catch over the rumbling crowd. "Oh, yes, useful indeed!" Flitwick squeaks, his voice growing impossibly more shrill. "Imploding, you say? Menacingly, horrifically advantageous! I imagine if any of them dare to attempt their freedom…"

I endeavour to tune out the piercing tonality as I peruse the room for Potter. The flight back from corralling terrified schoolchildren has given me the perfect amount of time to contemplate how to best approach the idiot.

I catch sight of his disgustingly grease-filled black hair atop a gaggle of his cowing admirers. He appears to be standing upon one of the unsightly fungi to speak to those assembled. I raise my Occlumency shields to produce my most intimidating glare as I pass through the crowd untouched.

"Potter!" I exclaim above the drowning chaos, tilting my chin high to meet his vacant eyes.

He leaps down from his perch to make his way to me. The sea of sycophants parts for him, leaving the two of us alone amidst the hoard.

"Draco. You got all the kids rounded up?"

"We did," I quip coldly. "They're ready for transport immediately."

"Good on you then," he says, casting his eyes to the ground in preparation to depart.

I grasp him by the shoulder, forcing him to stay fast.

"The plan?" I ask through gritted teeth.

"Same as before," he says, placing a laughable amount of depth in his voice. "Kids out the door first. Then, once they get here, we knock them out, kill the rest." His throat bobs around the idea.

"No," I growl "the plan for Hermione."

He eyes me up and down as if I've made a terrible departure from etiquette; as if he would know a trifle about niceties.

"She's with Tonks like your aunt said." he imprudently snaps at me.

I count to ten to steady myself from wrapping my hands around his feeble neck among several people who would welcome the opportunity to hex me.

"You idiot," I reply in lieu of physical violence, taking a step forward to ensure he is the only one who might hear. "By the time we make it out of this hell - and rest assured I plan for every last one of us to survive - you will have a plan to care for her, or I shall relieve you of that obligation."

"How fucking dare you," the scar-faced simpleton replies, his dog-like eyes narrowing to slits.

I back away, granting him the full force of my smile.

"Oh I assure you, I fucking dare, Potter. Think about that with every spell you fire today."

"After everything I've done for Luna, Malfoy," he spits "Once a snake, always a snake." His nostrils flare with an attempt at a sneer.

"Serpents slither together, Potter. Be a lion, you spineless bastard."

I continue pacing in reverse as he does the same. Excellent. At the very least he's not moronic enough to turn his back to me.

xoXOXox

I reunite with Draco after all of the children have been successfully evacuated. Seeing the overwhelming fear in them breaks my heart. So many of the first years were clutching blankets and sniffling into them as we ushered them into the cold, wet corridor. They seemed so small and innocent in their dragon print pyjamas and pygmy-puff slippers. I hope they'll be able to return to school soon.

Others were fascinated by the wards, some older children cheering when they saw who was enclosed in them. It was a chore to keep them from getting close enough to be incinerated. One of the young Ravenclaws pulled on my sleeve to look up at me with the biggest, softest brown eyes I had ever seen to tell me 'thank you'. I wrapped her in a hug and assured her we would all try our best to get her back in the classroom before next term. I plan to make good on my word to her.

"Are you in there, lovely? Nargles got your tongue?" Draco says gently, brushing my hair out of my eyes in nervous congeniality.

"Yes," I tell him, "Just thinking about the little ones."

He pulls me into his chest, consoling me with his scent.

"They're in the safest places they can be, love."

He's unfortunately correct. All of the danger is coming straight to us. It doesn't help me feel much better though, considering we can get to any place in this country via a three-hour train ride. They aren't far enough away from the carnage for me to feel at ease about it.

"I wish we could have gotten them out farther," I tell him.

"It's truly a shameful disservice to Wizardkind that you don't control every foreign Ministry, my love. If you did, the world would be a much safer place."

I snuggle into the crook of his arm, leaning my head against his shoulder.

"I just wish we could have done more," I admit.

"Where's my optimist?" he asks, stroking my hair. "We did the best we could, love. Once we assuage our country of these morally inept bastards, you can run for Minister and we'll never have to worry about the children again, okay?"

I think about his words for a moment. I reflect on a future with fluffy blondes reminiscent of marshmallows. I try to imagine them not being afraid of rival houses or being tormented because they're unique. I remember how distraught Draco was when he left his mother, and envision that feeling replaced by perfect contentment as our family is never torn apart again.

It's with this thought I cast my patronus. The silver hare bounds from the tip of my wand. I give it a message to send to dad.

"Dad, I did what I should. I'm proud of myself, and I hope you are proud of me too. I will always love you, come rain or shine."

As my patronus hops away, my revelry is broken by Harry's orders being shouted across those gathered to fight for the same future.

"Alright, the twenty are going to gather in the first classroom. Everyone else, to your battle stations! The statues and armour will man the gates. Fight like it's the last night of your life, friends! Thank you for being here to defend our home."

With that, he jumps down and we all begin mounting our brooms.

"A kiss for luck, my lovely?" Draco asks playfully from the broom beside me.

I dismount to pull him to me, giving him something to remember me should I not make it out of this alive. I savour the softness always present in his lips, the firmness of his strong arms holding me close and large hands against my back. My fingers tangle themselves in their favourite feature, his featherlight white hair. I grip it by the roots a bit rougher than I should as I stay back the urge to cry. He sends a low groan into my mouth as he pulls me against him, breaking free hesitantly to take a deep inhale of my hair. We are both refreshing our happiest memories in case this is our last time seeing each other alive.

He pulls away, shakes his head in bewilderment, a goofy half-smile lifting his sculpted cheeks.

"I love you too," he says releasing my hand slowly as he drags his fingers across mine.

"No turning me into a squib tonight, darling," I tell him.

We bolt into the sky, chasing a forever that's barely over the horizon. In seconds, we arrive in the first Hogwarts classroom, circled around it with our wands pointed towards the centre. Kingsley stands directly across from me, giving me a nod before staring again at the void soon to be filled. Professor McGonagall presides beside him, her air of silent dignity doing a great deal to calm my nerves. Draco is to my left with Ron at my right. Around the circle, we have all of the strongest duellers available. Narcissa stands at the head of the room with Harry in the centre. I allow Hermione and Tonks' spirits to fill me, working through me to channel their strength.

Ron leans over to speak in a low voice -

"You ready to get some bad guys? Wonder how much those masks will sell for, yeah?"

It's a beautiful thing to see him so pleasantly positive in the thick of defending our lives. It gives me all the more courage to continue fighting.

"Wits about you, love," Draco says. I almost laugh as Ron nods along with me at his instruction.

"Please don't die," I respond to both of them, staring fervently into the circle as I cast a protego maxima around the lot of us.

Harry takes a deep breath and nods to Narcissa. A bright blue blaze incircles him in a beautifully controlled display of Fiendfyre.

"Ready?" he yells, much louder than needed in the small room.

We all shout incoherent whoops of confirmation in return, Ron the loudest of them all.

Harry tilts his chin in the air.

"Voldemort!" he cries.

xoXOXox

Snatchers apparate into our midst to fill the room to bursting before Potter has a chance to close his mouth. A myriad of petrifications and sleeping spells fall on them from the outer perimeter. As their bodies fall stiff to the ground, they vanish immediately into my mother's wards. We all seem to be assessing the same situation as we look around to ensure none of the Light forces have fallen. Not a single soldier is misplaced. I quietly thank my Fates for postponing whatever carnage they see fit to saddle me with this evening.

"Move out!" Potter shouts as he walks triumphantly through the blue flames before my mother cancels the spell.

We mount our brooms and charge in small collectives towards every opening in the castle. Luna and I are assigned a row of windows on the third floor near the Forbidden Forest where we stare blankly into the distance awaiting the inevitable. Andromeda is floating down the hall some ways as tin and stone soldiers clang and stomp in their march beneath us.

"Stay high!" McGonagall calls up to us in her thick Scottish brogue, her words echoing off the walls to reverberate to my very core.

I don't chance to look down at her as I keep my eyes focused on the line of my impending future, aiming my wand through an opening in the glass. I refuse to believe I will perish tonight. My mother had too much influence on the tactical strategy to waste life needlessly.

I detect a movement in the tree cover. It writhes and slithers through the canopy, too strong to be wind. I hold fast my spell until I can see the intruders. No use announcing our position while the enemy lies in hiding. It's now I see them: A conglomerate of gigantic spiders - no, not spiders, wizard-eating acromantulas - making their way to the castle.

I fire killing spells at them as they begin filing towards us. I can feel Luna's ire from my stance, but she said nothing about the imprisonment of creatures. I won't take the chance of her life or mine being ended in such a demeaning manner as they charge in our direction.

We cast down a vast array of them in mere minutes, their fur-covered black and brown bodies falling to create a boundary at the forest's edge. Some of them vanish on impact, and I know Luna has sent them to the wards. I hope against logic they will be able to be subdued, or else that they will devour the deplorables inside the containment charms without hope of escape. My one consoling thought is that fire consumes all beings but dragons, therefore if they move within the imploding wards, they will be incinerated along with the rest.

After moments that last forever and no time at all, the acromantulas cease their advance. The forest is quiet long enough for me to catch my breath for a moment. I look to Luna, who seems nonplussed as ever as if this was routine extermination of a household pest. I can't see Andromeda's face, but she sits calmly atop her broom. If I'm not mistaken, I saw green lights flashing from her direction as well.

I look back out the window to a primally disturbing sight. The treetops are quaking with a much stronger presence than the overgrown spiders. My hand grows stiff around my wand as the canopy is disturbed by, if I'm not mistaken, light brown hair.

"Retreat!" I shout through a sonorous.

Good sense dictates there is a time to fight, and a time to realize we are outmanned and run for our lives. Luna and Andromeda listen, fleeing back into the air behind us as the giant clears the treeline.

Fuck.

The three of us dart upwards towards the high ceiling as the monster smashes it's gargantuan fist into the wall causing rubble to rain down burying the marching statues and suits of armour beneath us. As soon as the destruction comes it retreats, the monster seeming to be taken around the knees by some unknown force. It falls upon its back, crushing a clustered mass of trees in its wake. I look closer to see the game-keeper - the same one who almost killed me with the hippogriff a lifetime ago - punch the giant in the face then send some form of stinging hex at his eyes. I make a mental note to send him a basket of fruits as soon as the war ends.

From below and behind us, the grating sound of stone hitting stone assaults my ears. I cast a Muffliato over those in the proximity to quell the disabling noise. We stare out the area where a wall once stood, waiting in distressing silence as the trees remain unmoving.

"Let's fly lower," Andromeda calls through a sonorous.

Luna and I follow her lead as she dips hastily on her broom. I cast a disillusionment over the three of us as we anxiously glance over our shoulders through the gaping absence of the castle wall. It seems to grow diminutive the farther we drop, placing us in perspective. The enormity of Hogwarts has never resonated with me so much as it has in the moment I am defending it with my minuscule life.

As we grow closer to the ground level, the carnage is painted in stark relief. The wall we heard crumble only moments ago is resting in fragments on the floor, the first-story ceiling cleared away to display the wreckage in its entirety. A wail of mourning fills the air with the trappings of regret and finality - dying dreams of a future that will never come to pass. The first of the Light has fallen.

As we fly lower, a shock of ginger hair presents itself garishly beneath the mounds of grey rubble, another occurrence of copper and white bobbing in utter anguish above it.

"No! Weasel!" I foolishly shout audibly, rapidly descending to inspect the destruction.

'No, no… Not him. Anyone but him…' my mind begs as I near the devastation.

I get in range to view the crushed face. I can't make out the features of the corpse, but the body is too slender to be my Weasel. It is, however, one of his relatives judging from the multiple gingers attempting to pull another frantic, living wizard from his brethren.

"He's gone, Perce," I hear a familiar voice intone.

A wave of relief hits me at the same time as grief. His emptiness ravages me as if it were my brother who lay dying.

I vanish the body to the Room of Hidden Things, trusting against my better judgement the loitering DA members will treat it with the respect it deserves. I land my broom, cancelling my disillusionment to take the Weasel into my arms for merely a second. He returns my embrace, the tears that won't come standing still in his blue eyes and catching in his throat.

"He's among the stars," I placate, hoping he'll find solace in my lies as I once did.

He lands a single pat on my back, nodding into my shoulder in affirmation.

"I don't believe in stars, mate. But thanks all the same," he chokes into my robes.

"Who was it?" I ask as I plan the swift demise of the cretin who caused this pain upon one of the few people I still call a friend.

He shakes his head.

"I didn't see 'em, mate," he says with the deepest air of regret I've ever witnessed. I pull back to look in his eyes.

"Well, we'll have to slay them all to be sure," I tell him, clapping him on the shoulder with a nod.

As he smiles a wicked grin I know beyond a shadow of a doubt my words were exactly what he needed to hear.

My Fates must have determined I've been awarded more than my share of cordialities today. A vile, schadenfreude laugh echoes from my back spinning me immediately to face my assailant.

"Ha, ha… Ahh, young Malfoy," the beast drawls languidly. "That means the beautiful Lovegood isn't far behind then, eh?"

It's the same deplorable recruit I found to be dangerous in the infirmary so many moons ago. The one who burned his duelling partner into the afterlife. His smile isn't bloody this time but brilliant white, gleaming with the souls of unnumbered murdered innocents.

"I can't wait to fuck her senseless before I slit her throat," he croaks, gleaming his amber eyes into mine.

I don't have time to feel the burst of outrage fully as I throw up a shielding charm before the slicing hex hits me. My shield withstands the crucio and entrail expulsion curse before he goes for the kill. He wants me to suffer in my demise and I'm determined not to give him the slightest amount of sadistic joy. I shoot back an avada against Luna's wishes in the split second he retreats a step, only for him to dodge it effortlessly.

"Aw, prissy Baby Malfoy doesn't want to get his hands dirty with the fun curses!" he says through the most gut-roiling mockery of a smile. "I wish you had presented more of a challenge." he taunts and tisks as he raises his wand.

In the same moment, he falls lifeless to the ground beneath Luna's spell. I look to her in the utmost adoration as she gazes at me with the nonchalant dreaminess she is known for.

"He really is terrible, isn't he?" she asks. "Or wasn't he, I should correct."

"I love you," I mouth to her. She blows me a kiss before flying headlong towards the main conflict.

xoXOXox

Harry stands in the centre of the action, firing petrifying spells and sleeping hexes at the Death Eaters with lightning speed. It's a serendipitous occasion that You-Know-Who wants to kill him personally, as none of the fighters are willing to risk firing lethal hexes at him. Draco and I get as close to him as possible, flanking him on the left and right as we beat back the oncoming danger.

Andromeda holds our shielding spell from a disillusionment high behind us. She's in a terribly vulnerable position being outside of her protego with no direct protection in front of her. We cut down several of the boldest Death Eaters, but the remaining fighters prove to be a terrible challenge. The large man with all of the tattoos who guarded me in the dungeons is in the front, throwing vile curses that break through our shields on multiple occasions. I tackle one of the Hogsmeade villagers as a crackling purple light flies towards us, certain whatever broken bones he sustained from the impact are less dangerous than the spell we dodged. I stand to my feet, petrifying two Death Eaters before getting hit with a hex meant for Harry.

I'm knocked back hard into the unforgiving stone ground. Luckily, I land on my back, tucking my head in to prevent the worst of the damage. Draco recklessly runs towards me as I stumble to my feet.

"Turn around, kitten!" I yell as a red hex races his direction.

He listens, shielding himself barely in time to avoid whatever destruction was awaiting him.

The dull ache of injured blood vessels thrums beneath the adrenaline. I cast a healing charm over myself as he lifts me into his arms to throw me over his shoulder, running at full-speed away from the battle. He sets me down behind a large stone pillar, gingerly patting all over my body for evidence of injury.

"I'm fine," I assure him "Just got knocked back for a second."

A blur of brown fuzziness blasts by us, the wind catching in my hair as we both look up.

"Come on, kitten. They need us," I tell him, taking a stolen second to kiss the back of his hand.

We sprint back to the battlefield, stopping in our tracks as we see who has arrived.

xoXOXox

"What in the gods-damned bloody…" I pant out, attempting in futility to catch my breath.

"Shut it, Granger," she demands. "I'm here to fight."

"Are you as deranged as your paramour, witch?" I shout even as I cast two avadas towards the imbeciles assaulting us.

She looks me in the eyes, piercing me with the sharpness of her multitude of pains.

"Tonks is dead," she states stoically. "I couldn't stay there. What use is having a child if they are born into a world like this?"

I let the grief seep into me slowly. My cousin is dead, ostensibly not from spell damage but a completely preventable circumstance. A tide of longing washes through me. Though I barely knew her, the loss of what could have been floods my soul with remorse. Did the baby survive? Was Dory able to hold the child before she passed from this world? Did she know what a perilous circumstance she birthed the new life into?

These dull musings are why Hermione is my protector, my salvation: because she thinks of life's implications before the rest of us dare to notice them. She sees fifty steps ahead in a game we are meant to be destroyed by. If she falls tonight, her premonitions fall along with her. Our hopes will be entombed in a monument cast by her fool-hardy valour.

"Go home, Hermione," I demand fruitlessly, "Hide well. I'll ensure you can run far from this place when the destruction is complete."

"Fuck off, Granger," she insults me through tight lips. "Gryffindors don't run."

Although I'm not looking at her, I can tell she is arching an eyebrow in reminiscence of my godfather by the tone of her dismissal. Where the hell is he? I haven't seen him within the resistance or the assailants since we have been fighting.

Dolohov fires a curse at her as I cast a protego in her direction. This proves to be an error in self-preservation as I'm hit with a slicing hex to the abdomen. It hurts like fire as all of my inner liquids mingle where they don't belong. It's the sting of dark liquor and lonely nights. Luckily, I have survived far worse. Luna aides me with a stitching charm to quell the leaking substances as I continue to fight.

The sounds of falling bodies and wounded flesh come to a halt to be replaced by a mind-altering hiss. The Dark Lord's voice permeates the remnants of my soul through a broadcasting charm.

"Give me Harry Potter…"

"COME AND TAKE HIM YOU COWARDLY BASTARD!" the Weasel roars into the void.

The echoes of his war cry ricochet off every surface of the castle, vibrating to my very core. It's almost as if I can hear the blood pulsing in his bulging veins, feel the heat of his face and arms as they boil with the flames of virtue and vengeance.

Now the true war commences.

xoXOXox

Ginny and I fight the tattooed man together, her overpowering him with strong hexes while I attempt to petrify him. He's too fast to be so large, too swift for someone with so many muscles. Andromeda's shields burst and crackle in several instances where she is running out of magical strength. We won't last much longer in this stance.

I move close to Ginny, firing from different angles as she casts back-to-back blasting charms which only seems to anger the man.

"On my count, we go straight up," I tell her, disillusioning and accioing our brooms in one move.

She nods once while still staring concentratedly at her opponent. I levitate the broom between her feet.

"3… 2… 1…"

"Up!" we both chant at the same time dashing straight towards the ceiling.

A curse flies clear into the far wall that was behind us, melting the stained glass window for the entire structure to begin coming unglued. Everyone down there will be crushed beneath the avalanche of debris if we don't act now.

I swing around to grab Mrs Tonks by the arm, tossing her onto the back of my broom as we face the destruction head-on.

"Please tell me you know the countercurse!" I yell over the wind whipping through our hair.

It appears she does. She begins throwing spells at the melting glass and crumbling wall, causing the mayhem to stall in its tracks as if time has frozen its demise for eternity. I stare in awe at the accomplishment, unable to comprehend that the wreckage could be undone so simply.

"Thank you," I shout.

I feel a weight lifted off of my broom. No, not lifted, falling. I immediately turn my broom downwards as Mrs Tonks pummels towards the ground.

"No, no, nonononono!" I murmur incoherently.

I reach her before she smashes into the ground, but I'm not strong enough to pull her unconscious body back to me. My arm muscles burn as my sweating hand grips with all of its strength against her frail wrist. In a desperate attempt to save her, I lay flat against the broom to cast a somnium and petrificus on her, hoping to all that is good someone will recognize her and pull her from the wards before this ends.

I descend carefully, noticing Hermione by her fluffy curls. She's holding up the shielding charm from ground level now, only protecting those in the immediate proximity. I suppose the spell would be more concentrated that way, but it leaves us at a sore disadvantage. I fly up to take Andromeda's former location in preparation to shield them all. I'm vaguely wondering where Ginny made off to when I hear a terrible hiss echo from every stone wall.

"Give me Harry Potter…"

The awful, rattling voice is drowned out by Ron's furious scream, one of triumph and revenge, victory at all costs. I cast my Protego around the group of fighters beneath me as the front doors smash open to reveal a crowd of black-clad assailants in silver masks marching forth. You-Know-Who has brought reinforcements.

In an instant, a wall of blue flames erupts around the perimeter of the room, a drying blast of heat rolling up to cause sweat to drip from my brows. Without chancing a look around, I know Narcissa is floating behind me and she is done with the brutally slow pace of this battle.

The beginning of the end is upon us.

xoXOXox

Hermione's shield around the four of us holds fast as darker and darker curses fly our way. We are huddled around Potter to avoid the avadas flying recklessly alongside us as our comrades in arms duck behind scattered rubble and debris. We give him scarcely enough room to swing his wand as the Dark Lord's forces close in on us.

He's saved the most elite of his regime for last, utilizing the first wave of fighters as expendables. I expected no less than this from the tyrannical maniac he is: wear down our forces to slaughter us broad-sweep. What he hadn't been counting on was facing the brilliance of Mother's Fiendfyre, and it's this that will give us the only advantage we have. If we burn, the world burns around us. There will be nothing left to salvage if we fail.

Many are singed and incinerated as they try in vain to cross the line of fire that extends to the ceiling, leaving but a few remaining to shoot hexes at us. Our shielding charms are more than proficient to handle the onslaught. Time is our only remaining enemy.

One black-clad leg arrogantly places itself into the flames with more dignity than it deserves. The thud of a dragonhide boot echoes resoundingly across the scarred floor over the roar of unfettered finality. I rush toward the only figure I know could penetrate my Mother's protection by virtue of his blood. Hermione attempts to stay me, though I resist. Potter, of all vermin, casts a protego to carry me through.

The lightest polished platinum blows silently over his shoulders in the hot rushing wind. He leisurely slips his mask into the pocket of his robes as if he owns time immemorial.

"How dare you," he begins in a low-drawling scold before so much as looking up. "impersonate my son!" he shouts in visceral outrage, launching an Avada at my chest. I slam myself against the ground, ducking and rolling before his quick wand can slay me.

"Expelliarmus!" I hear called from far behind me, sending the dragon and elm flying into the eternal flames.

"Ha!" Father sneers, producing an identical wand from nowhere. "You consider me unprepared, you snivelling degenerate? How comically ill-advised for you to underestimate me so. Nothing, least of all primary school charmwork, will separate me from your final wails!"

He sends a foul bleeding curse at me, one that will dry me from the inside if it connects. It nearly shatters Potter's shield as I cast my own protego. I've never been proficient in a duel against my father. Then again, I've never had so much to fight for.

"Father!" I shout from beyond the charm "I am not an imposter! I'm your son!"

"Lies!" he bellows, wielding the Dark Sword with practised ease as my protego collapses around me. Luckily, Luna and Potter's shields don't surrender. "My son would never dare to sully himself with such deplorable excuses for wizards as these!"

I hear a single set of footsteps pounding a punishing pace on the stone floor behind me. If only I can pander to my father's incredulity a moment longer.

"I'm Draco Lucius Malfoy! Son of Narcissa Black Malfoy! Heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House!"

"Silence!" he roars, snarling as he stalks closer. I cast a new protection charm around Potter's.

My words flow like the most tumultuous river, rushing forth rapidly to carry my voice on their backs.

"Father, I can get you out of here safely. I can take the mark off of you as I've removed it from myself." I display my forearm with my wand high overhead. "You can run far and hide well Father." I parrot his words he has beaten into me since I was a child, making a point to hold his stare when his eyes return to bore into my face. He seems to recognize his lecture, his face turning to stone as his Occlumency shields cloud his eyes in apathy.

"You disgust me," he growls "I've given you more than a rotting, spoiled failure such as yourself could ever deserve! Yet you reward me with betrayal?"

He laughs into the sky, a crackling, terrifying sound that's pierced my bones for nearly two decades. The smart of his cane to my legs bites fresh into my skin as if it were happening in this very instant.

"I reward you with your life!" I shriek as tears rain down from my eyes, "Please, Father, take my offering and run! Don't make me do this!"

He smirks like the murderer he is, carving my heart from my chest as he takes one step closer in horrid amusement.

"My son was a practised Occlumens you abominable, repugnant excuse for a wizard. He would never shed tears. You are no Malfoy, and will die screaming for disgracing my family in such a distasteful manner."

As Father raises his wand to end my life mercilessly, the pounding steps grow louder. He barely dodges the green light before it connects.

"He's MY family you pompous piece of Thestral shit!" the Weasel crassly admonishes, sending a blasting curse to knock Lucius into the flames.

He returns momentarily, firing avada after avada at us.

The Weasel runs forward as I send a myriad of petrifying and sleeping charms at my father's lithe form. He shakes them off as flawlessly as water dancing over ice. We dodge and move as Hermione and Potter charge forward, slinging an array of offensive curses towards Lucius.

"That all you got, bastard?" the Weasel growls "I guess we'll have to teach you how lions make snakes die screaming. Pluck the peacock, if you will." he mocks, gesturing in a pantomime of pureblood etiquette.

The Weasel sends a shredding curse forward as my petrificus connects, sending ribbons of the man I once loved clumping gracelessly to the ground.

He stalks towards the body as Hermione and Potter fall back to help the others. His face is still perfectly intact although his torso is no longer existent. The gaping hole between his mind and his legs is so fiercely jarring, but altogether too familiar - as if I've seen it every night of my life.

The Weasel leans down to speak to what remains of Lucius Malfoy, growling low enough to leave remnants of spittle on his cheeks.

"You've helped kill enough of my family for this lifetime, Malfoy." he intones, punctuating his statement with a stomp that crushes his perfectly aquiline nose and pristine cheekbones in one. My fear is crushed with them, all remaining fragments of dread fleeing from me in this moment. It is finished. The desecration upon the name Malfoy is no more.

xoXOXox

Credits:

"You will die screaming" was from Danaerys in Game of Thrones.

"Virtue and vengeance" was from the book "Children of Virtue and Vengeance" by Tomi Adeyemi.

"I'm going to love you like nobody's loved you, come rain or come shine." was the late great B.B. King. May he soar amongst the stars.

"Oh I assure you, I fucking dare." is a quote by Tempest E. Dashon, who also orchestrated the mode of Lucius's violent death and beta'd this chapter for me. My words would be ashes on the wind without her.

Vine 


	24. Sings of Freedom

A/N: Please welcome our special guest narrator: Harry Bleedin' Pottah!

Nope, not sorry.

Enjoy,

Vine

People like to describe anger with hot words. "She was boiling mad", "he was fuming", and so on. These people don't understand the anger of Voldemort.

His rage is so cold it burns. Dry ice. Frostbite. Diving into a frozen pond in your skivvies while being strangled by a cursed locket. That's probably why it's so difficult to explain to Hermione: It's a very specific derangement. At this moment, the burning cold soaks through me making its way into all of my hollow places to fill my bones.

The scar is killing me. Well, maybe not killing me, but causing me to wish I was dead so the pain would stop. It's a customized cruciatus curse for one. I wonder deep down if he feels this pain too, or if he's so accustomed to almost a century of the torture that it doesn't phase him anymore. It's going to be strange to feel my mind without him in it. I wonder which parts of me will remain intact, or if it's him that's been holding me together this entire time.

It's easy to think like this while casting two spells over and over. Petrificus, somnium, petrificus, repeat… for hours as the danger becomes increasingly weaker. There are only two tasks left in this morbid game, and they both include ridding myself of snake-people.

Yes, snake-people. Nothing surprises me anymore. I've learned to trust Luna with anything that sounds out of the realm of reality because nine times out of ten she's right. Wrackspurts? Sure. Lost crown that's actually a horcrux? Why not. Psychotic snake man is holding an imprisoned snake person as his pet and I should talk to her? Of course.

Oh, and let's not forget the least believable thing - "Hermione loves you, you know. You can be good enough for her. You really can." Maybe, Luna. Maybe you're right, or maybe this is the tenth time.

"Duck, Potter!" Draco screams, knocking me to the ground as a killing curse whizzes past my head.

I should wait until my life is in less immediate danger to think about this circumstance.

While I'm rolling out from under Draco's weight, a grating hiss scrapes along the outside of my conscious and ears at once.

"Harry Potter… Return to me before any more magical blood can be spilt. You've sacrificed so many to prolong the inevitable."

"No," I whisper assuredly, knowing he'll hear through whatever terrible connection he's created with me. "I haven't sacrificed anyone. These lives are all offerings to see you defeated. If you care so much about magical blood being spilt, you can surrender."

"Only I may live, Harry Potter… I am the Chosen One."

I rise to my feet to cast a silent expelliarmus and watch the flames spark as the yew wand flies into them. Every fighter still standing on our side begins shooting past the wall of fire, hoping to connect.

High above, his voice calls again, taunting us for our protective measures -

"One can't destroy what one can't comprehend…"

Lucky me for having such a special understanding of a homicidal, soulless dictator then, I suppose.

I glance back at Narcissa, nodding at her to cancel the Fiendfyre so we can see who we're fighting against. She shakes her head and mouths "No," looking pointedly towards Draco.

I sigh. Of course. Why would I think she would help me out of, I don't know, _ethics _or _common sense_ when her darling little boy is being shot at.

I turn to Draco, who is still looming with a snarl over that ridiculously pointy nose of his. It's so difficult to have a civil conversation with him. I try - honestly, I do. It's just taxing - draining, really - to have to beat through all of his undeserved arrogance.

His cock-sureness reaches so far beyond what the average good-looking rich wizard possesses. He expects the world to bow before him like we should be honoured that he even exists. I always thought it was his father's protection or his money, but now he's without both of those things I know without a doubt it's just _him_. He gets excited over the prospect that he is who he is, or who he wants to be, I guess. I would gladly trade places with Draco if I could, then we would both get exactly what we've always wanted.

"Draco," I shout over the roar of the flames, gripping him on the shoulder in the midst of the battle as he did to me in the Room of Requirement, forcing my spine and chest to be as tall as possible as he looks down on me.

He doesn't snark back or send a sarcastic jab as I expect, instead just staring through me, waiting for something. I reward him with a quick answer for the uncharacteristic patience -

"Did you mean what you said, about taking care of my… obligations?"

I hate that he used that word. A child is not an obligation. A child is a person to be loved and cared for, and I would be honoured to do those things.

"Every word," he replies somberly.

I swallow my spit and each scrap left of my pride to ask this favour of him -

"Good. Take Hermione and Luna and get out of here. Your mother won't let down the Fiendfyre until you go, and I can't fight snake-face until she does."

The sweat dripping from his hair into his pale eyebrows gives him a look of unhinged desperation, like those muggles who are on drugs and wander around train stations asking for money. It's not becoming of anyone, but the vulnerability is gory and wrong on him. I realize I'm looking at the bare core of the boy with the perfect shell. It's so intimate, so soft and gooey and altogether unsettling.

"I can't leave you here to fight alone, Potter,"

"Please," I beg "I'm not alone, I'll have Ron, and your mum, and all that's left of the DA. Please, keep her safe, Draco. Don't let my baby die."

My voice cracks on the last few words. They were too large to pass my tongue, too impactful to have come from an idiot like me.

He nods once, running back to summon Luna. My soul gets twisted and pulled apart like modelling clay as they physically restrain Hermione. It takes both of them to hold her arms behind her back while she kicks and protests. Luna shoves Hermione's spare wand in her hair while Hermione looks at me in helpless defeat.

I mouth "go, please," over the chaos, and in return, she mouths "I hate you." I promise, 'Mione, you could never hate me as much as I hate myself, but I'll make both of us love me one day soon.

I turn back to Narcissa, who floats calculatedly overhead, scanning the battlefield and firing a protego every few moments. I catch her eye and gesture to the empty spaces around me. Draco is gone, Hermione is gone, it's time for me to hop out of the frying pan and into the fire - alone.

She takes a deep inhale as I turn to face our enemies. She releases the spell holding up the wall of flames to a shocking sight. There are only twelve or so Death Eaters left, all of them standing behind an enormous shielding charm. Some have fallen and lay askew across the ground, but it appears most of them vanished to the containment wards. I hear a cackling hiss from high above as I duck and roll behind a fallen pillar to summon my broom. Looks like this will be an aerial battle.

I fly upwards and send several of my fiercest disarming charms at him while the DA below starts going wild with hexes. I see a cloud of black smoke storm in out of my periphery as the twelve masked soldiers fall like dominoes. They land with metal clangs and heavy thuds against the ground, vanishing on site.

"Severusss…" Voldemort hisses "You dare to betray me? To defile your brothers in arms?"

The cloud of black passes between us as I'm knocked from my broom. My final expelliarmus connects as I fall, sending whatever stolen wand he's using into my hand. A split second from the ground a cushioning charm protects me, and I've never been more confused in my life.

The sky lights up in fireworks as spells fly from every direction towards the evil upon us.

"Nagini, kill!" are the final words from Voldemort's mouth as he shatters into ashes.

I glance around wildly, scanning every spare piece of ground for evidence of the snake. I see her coiling her way down a pillar to my left, preparing to attack. Time stands still as fifty wands are pointed her direction.

"Hold your fire!" I yell, remembering Luna's insane plan to talk to her. '_There will always be time to kill her later, if you have to.' _she said. Merlin, I hope she's right.

The entirety of the DA halts on my command. They give me too much power for someone so unsure. The snake slithers towards me at breakneck speed, her gigantic fangs open and lusting to sink into my soft body.

I shout in parseltongue -

"Nagini!"

She stops in her tracks.

"Massster?" she questions.

"Yesss… yesss…" I lie, "I'm your Massster."

She dips her head, scanning me with her almond eyes. They shine like jewels in the dim light, twinkling in deep ambers and bright canary yellows around the black diamond pupils. I understand all at once the way many people get entranced by snakes.

"You have Massster'sss sssoul… As I have Massster'sss soul…" she drawls in a languid hiss.

Is she talking about the connection with Voldemort? Does he have her mind enslaved too?

"Where?" I ask her, for she probably knows better than I do. Maybe he made even more horcruxes, maybe she can sense them and will know where to find them.

She raises up her muscular body, standing tall like a cobra preparing to strike. All of the wands point towards her again, and I remind my comrades to hold their fire. She towers an entire floor above us, her light green belly exposed for the world to see. A dark green trail marks her, claims her scales as surely as he claimed my skin.

The scar. She has my scar. A perfect lightning bolt right over where her stomach should be.

"Here is Massster'sss sssoul…" she says "Does Massster require it from his ssservant?"

My heart is crushed to a million mirror pieces. She is offering her life to bring back someone who has imprisoned her so mercilessly, taken hold of her very mind for who knows how long. In eighteen years, I've experienced so many horrific visions, so many sleepless nights fuelled by his terror. How much more has she seen? What has this woman devolved into because of one man's reckless, indescribably selfish quest for power?

I gesture to Ron, who comes to my side immediately. I reach out my hand, and he hands over his string knapsack with no questions. I wrap my fingers around the hilt, feeling the rubies scrape at my palm like tiny shards of glass.

"Yesss. Well done, Nagini. It'sss time to ssset you free."

xoXOXox

It's dumbfounding that taking a sword to the face could relieve a headache, but it does a spectacular job. The freezing burn retreats immediately as the scar is removed. It hisses and writhes, screams my murder into the room of hidden things. Then it's gone.

Sure, I feel better for a moment, but I know it won't last always. There is going to be another terrible psychopath with blood-lusty plans lurking just beyond this side of good reason and sound morals. If not Grindelwald, then Voldemort. If not Voldemort, then who knows what. Maybe one of these crazed Death Eaters in Narcissa's wards, or maybe a Squib with a vendetta, or some other bastard who likes to kill.

It's at this moment I decide without a doubt to become an Auror once this mess is settled.

The Room of Requirement has expanded to fit all of our survivors, the caged Death Eaters, the population of Hogsmeade, and probably half of Wizarding Britain. Everyone is shaking hands and hugging, each group of people holding at least one person who is sobbing uncontrollably. Our losses were light compared to the Dark, but I'd like to believe Fred counted for more than all of their deaths combined. I don't want to walk over to the containment charms where the bodies are being held. I hate to think of the cost they paid to rid the world of this destruction.

Hagrid walks by me with a festering scar over his eye to clap me on the back, causing me to fly forward half a metre.

"Good on you, 'Arry! You sure showed ol' No-Nose where to stuff it!"

"Yeah," I reply with all the energy of a wet dishcloth, "Thanks Hagrid. Couldn't have done it without you."

He walks away to congratulate the rest of the crew as I stalk through the crowd. Kingsley orders everyone about in my stead. Good. I'm done with ordering and commanding. I want to go home and sleep next to Hermione and my child if they'll have me.

"They will be held in the cellars until the Ministry can erect enough cells for them," Kingsley instructs.

"Yes, sir," a tall auburn woman in special-forces Auror robes responds, "We have our brightest minds warding the corridors as we speak."

"Perfect," he says, "Take Lady Malfoy with you if she will go," he says, turning to Narcissa.

"I lament I won't be able to join you today, Agent Moon," Narcissa instructs the tall woman. "I must return with my family to lay my niece to rest,"

This conversation stalls me. Her niece. Tonks. She wasn't even fighting today!

"Tonks is dead?" I ask Narcissa.

"I'm afraid so, Mr Potter. She passed beyond the veil during childbirth this afternoon."

"A shame," Kingsley stoically interrupts. "She was one of our best. One of my favourites."

"Thank you," says Narcissa, nodding politely. "She was too good for this foul world."

"She was," I agree, unsure of what else to say to console her. "Where's the baby?"

"At my sister's home with his father. I have to locate my sister so we can enter the wards when we return."

"Have you tried accioing her?" I ask before thinking.

Narcissa stares coldly at me as if she could slap me for the ignorance in my words.

"I would think it imprudent, Mr Potter, to summon a person within a room filled with so many dangerous objects."

"Oh, yeah," I respond limply "Hey, have you seen Draco? He had Hermione and Luna with him…"

She waves dismissively at me.

"The three of them - pardon me, _four _of them - are in the infirmary with Severus. I assume you remember where the infirmary is located, Mr Potter?"

"Severus?" I gasp "Why are they with Snape?"

Narcissa steps closer to me, boring holes in my skull with her nonchalance. It seems there is a wall between her and me but only she can see through it.

"Yes, Severus, my son's godfather, who if I recall correctly greatly aided you in your confrontation of the Dark Lord. Perhaps you might deem him worthy of an acknowledgement on your way to visit your… betrothed." She stalls on the last word; lingers there as if it's a disgusting thing she could hardly bring herself to say.

"Yeah, thanks," I reply, making my way out of the room to check on Hermione.


	25. A Bird That Stalks

_A/N: On a grill next to the review box, you will find skewers on which to place your Hufflepuff hearts. I plan to make tacos out of them to feed to Nagini._

_Except for you, Dash: I will ask for yours nicely my wonderful Beta and bringer of ferocious insults. Thank you for adding your merciless brand of brilliance to this chapter and being the leviosa to my wingardium._

_Vine_

Luna and I sit alongside Hermione in the Hogwarts infirmary. Godfather paces from the head of the bed to the foot, waving his wand over her in an unseemly amount of diagnostic spells while spewing every synonym he can think of for "idiot".

"Stupid, asinine, absolute bloody foolishness…"

"Thank you for saving Harry, Professor," Luna quips.

"Nothing but shortsighted naivety displayed by you Ms Granger," he continues to murmur, popping two oddly black sterile gloves over his hands.

"What was I supposed to do? Leave my friends to fight You-Know-Who by their… Ow, Professor!"

"Shut up. What's infinitely more painful is the myriad of complications you could have experienced from spell damage!" he replies, pressing methodically with his fingertips from her ribs to her hips "What you are _supposed _to do - simpleton witch - is to stay far away from places where you could injure yourself and the life you assisted in creating!"

"Hypocrite! What about the lives at risk today, Professor? And think about what _you're_ supposed to do!" Hermione kicks her foot while jerking away from Godfather's touch. "You're being needlessly rough with me and my baby when you have every opportunity to treat me well! Do you know that Tonks died? DIED!" she shouts as Godfather presses unrelentingly over her lower abdomen.

"Yes, and you could have perished with her, or now without medical attention. A pity the only professional qualified and available to ensure your longevity is so impishly _tactless," _Godfather admonishes, punctuating his cold stare with a pop of the gloves into the waste bin. "Granger, you're dismissed in full health."

He directs his ire to me as Hermione brashly stands to her feet.

"And you! I never would have _dreamed _your self-preservation instincts to be so abhorrently deficient! On. The. Bed. And for Salazar's sake witch - sit… down…"

Hermione and I change places as Luna attempts to strike another conversation with Godfather.

"You know, Professor, you should really start calling us by our first names. It could get quite confusing with all of us having Granger for a family name."

I hear Godfather's teeth click most grotesquely as he grinds them together.

"Delightful," he growls through them, mustering an impatient sneer.

Godfather slices my shirt open with no regard for my dignity, not that there is much left of it to be salvaged. He takes one look at the horrid purple and green bruising and back to me.

"Dolohov?" he questions, arching an eyebrow.

"Yes, I believe so."

"Do you believe it Draco, or do you know it to be true?" he asks incredulously.

"I know it to be true," Luna interjects with a smile. "Dolohov is the large man with the tattoos, right? I stitched Draco up as soon as the curse hit though, so I don't think he lost as many fluids as he was meant to."

"Remarkable," Godfather states, running his thin, frigid fingers gingerly across the bruises. He turns to face Luna. "No one has ever survived this curse. The countercurse has not been made… public."

"That's so sad," Luna replies, her eyes falling into the deepest oceans as the realization sinks in. "They will now though, won't they?" she asks quietly, hope gleaming amidst the despair. I want to kiss the pain away, to tell her everything will be okay, but I'm not certain the truth will be so simple.

"It would appear so," Godfather replies, relieving my anxiety. He waves his wand to illustrate all of my components resting soundly inside me. He shifts a few of them around slightly, causing a strange tickle to bubble forth until he has them resituated. "Excellent work," he tells Luna "I've seen healers less adept at internal stitching."

"Thank you," she replies "I had to save him."

"And where were YOU?" Hermione shouts, rising to her feet while stabbing an accusatory finger dangerously close to Godfather's nose. "YOU could have saved him! You could have saved TONKS!" she screeches, her voice catching in tears and breaking in outrage.

"Ms Granger…" Godfather growls, his general menace retreating methodically into the black recesses of his eyes "As we discussed, your emotions will be heightened during the coming days, and following the traumatic experiences you so _needlessly _endured…"

"FUCK YOU!" she shouts "You're a COWARD and a snake! The consummate Slytherin! The only person you care to save is YOURSELF unless it's convenient or advantageous to YOU! The only reason you decided to offer your _gracious assistance - _AT THE VERY END might I add after our soldiers gave their LIVES for this cause - is because your side was being annihilated! You only helped so you could escape Azkaban!"

I stand to my feet, stepping between Hermione and Godfather before wands are drawn.

"You idiotic, ungrateful, snivelling excuse for a Gryffindor…" Godfather snarls "If you had any knowledge of one-quarter of the aide you have received from me you would be kissing the hem of my robes. Some of us don't go about shouting our courtesies to the world. Consummate Slytherin indeed," he scoffs.

"Prove it!" she demands, crossing her arms defiantly across her swollen breasts "You're a liar. The worst sort! The kind who lies to himself then believes it!"

"Silence!" Godfather orders, running his middle finger across his eye. He summons a vial, dripping a murky silver liquid into it.

"Take this to the Pensieve, and you'll have every answer you desire. Afterwards, I fully expect a thorough and accurate apology."

"If the answers aren't sufficient, expect a thorough and proper hexing instead, you pompous, _despicable_, slimy reptile!" Hermione annunciates acerbically, slamming the infirmary door on her way out.

Luna looks to me then to Godfather and back.

"I think she'll make it safe to the headmaster's office, don't you kitten?" she asks.

I hear Potter clattering noisily along in an effort to placate Hermione's shouting.

"Yes, I believe she will," I respond.

Godfather stares daggers through me, diverting the anger Hermione has brought forth to attack me in her stead.

"It will be your penance for such ineptitude for that child to have an aggregation of her temper and yours. You should pray to every god for the child to inherit your mother's occluding prowess."

"Mine?!" I shout, startled at the egregious assault on my character.

"She's your wife, is she not? Unless the second Mrs Granger here has become so fortuitous at healing that she has fashioned a way to sire the child?"

Luna erupts in laughter, collapsing over the stool she sits on to steady herself against Godfather's shoulder.

"No, no…" she pants out around the giggles. "That's Harry's baby," she sighs, catching her breath "Hermione is our best witch."

xoXOXox

This situation is all so stupid, so perfectly unintelligent, miraculously incomprehensible. I can't stop laughing.

"Lovely, I think it's time for you to get some rest. Let us go see about Mother and Aunt Andi."

"No, no, I'm fine…" I tell him, although I'm not sure that's true.

What I mean is I'm finer than I was a moment ago, more alright than I've been in the past few hours. I'm feeling, which is better than not.

The end of the battle overtook me with the strangest sensation of all-consuming nothing. My sense of purpose was gone, being replaced by a solid, empty blankness surrounding me. It started when the dueller threatened Draco.

_"I can't wait to fuck her senseless before I slit her throat."_

The jarring threat hit my ears like a flying axe, obliterating his humanity and my morals in one brutal stroke.

I killed him instantly, reflexively. I didn't have time to wonder what his motivations were, that perhaps he was coaxing Draco to kill him first, or maybe he was stark raving mad and required a mind healer; I just killed him. And I didn't feel sorry; I _don't_ feel sorry. Not even angry. I felt nothing.

I didn't care about the children who might mourn the loss of their father or the mother who lost a son. As a matter of fact, when I blew Draco a kiss and flew off, I supposed if they existed, they would be better off without him to stain their lives.

This is madness. Arguing with myself, justifying my actions against their intentions and repercussions. These thoughts have spun away and taken me with them. I don't know where Luna Granger has flown off to or who has taken her place. Am I not the one who saves spiders from demise because they, like me, only desire to live? Are human lives not more influential than animals? But isn't that also what makes them so dangerous?

I belatedly realize I'm still leaning on Professor Snape's shoulder staring into the black abyss of his robes as Draco coaxes me to walk.

"Professor," I mumble into the comfortably dark fabric, snuggling my nose into it in hopes of disappearing there for eternity "How did you turn into smoke? Was it eternal darkness powder? I'd like to try it."

"You can uncover the secrets of the universe after you rest, witch," he scolds me handing me a vial of Dreamless Sleep from the shelf. He must not understand the terrors will still be around when I awaken. "The lot of you are enough to drive any wizard to an early grave. I'll speak at length with Minerva about this inter-house unity bollocks she's comprising, because if I ever have the unfortunate circumstance of attempting to lecture Ravenclaw, Slytherin and Gryffindor simultaneously again I may very well retire sooner than anticipated."

"I know your secret," I tell his robes, unable to bear the burden of it for any longer while my sanity is barrelling away with me.

"Oh?" he responds flatly, pulling my shoulders up to look me in the eyes. "Show me."

I stare back into his unreadable gaze, calling forth a picture of his aura as I fall headlong away from my spinning consciousness.

_'Why did you do it?'_ I project into his mind. _'Why do you let the bad things happen? How is your aura still blue?'_

A wave of despair radiates into me, cooling my insides to a painfully cold remorse.

_'The primary life we must save is our own.' _he replies.

"This all could have been avoided," I muse out loud "No one had to die, not a single person…"

"You are correct, Mrs Granger. Unfortunately, not everyone understands nor cares to comprehend sound advice. Furthermore, many are unsalvageably lazy, and such refuse to apply it when the opportunity presents itself."

I take advantage of my Professor's unexpected amicability to ask one more question:

_'Is that why you are a Slytherin, Professor? Because you understand these things without being told them?'_

He pauses, carefully crafting his response.

_'A particular set of experiences is necessary to understand this knowledge well, Ms Granger. One I would never wish upon you.'_

The sentiment has me craving to comfort him, to find solace in all of the things he's learned so my friends and I will never have to. What horrible experiences cause one to give up hope of saving us all, to lean on the complacence of selfishness?

I wrap Professor Snape in my arms, taken aback by how small his body is under the robes. His presence is so large, so untouchable and self-reliant, yet he was given this thin body, no larger or stronger than Draco's. It's so unfair, so mercilessly juxtaposing that someone with his strength could be placed in a vessel so frail while weak and sodden Lucius could live in broad shoulders and a heart-jerkingly handsome smile.

Wouldn't it be nice, brilliant, advantageous, for our bodies to be proportional to our auras? Then everyone - not just aura readers - could gauge ourselves for what we are and know others for their insides immediately. The strong and good and caring among us could be granted power over darkness easily then and it would all be so simple. Simpler still if everyone could read auras, or even better if everyone could be given kindness and intelligence in equal measure...

"Oh please do think louder, Mrs Granger," Professor Snape quips sarcastically "The raging headache from being surrounded by spells flying and Fiendfyre was entirely insufficient."

"I think we'll be going now, Professor," I reply, satisfied that the answers I've received will whirl in my mind's eye until I can resolve them for myself. "You'll come with us, won't you?" I ask optimistically.

"I'll be along shortly," he replies "to see to Nymphadora's memorial."

"We need you, Godfather," Draco interjects, his eyes so soft and large, like a warm grey flannel during an unrelenting blizzard.

"I'll be along, Draco, as soon as the snake is secured," our Professor replies solemnly "I wouldn't dare leave you and your mother to tend to the preparations on your own."

"Thank you, Godfather," Draco replies, reaching a hand to shake the Professor's. He is pulled into an embrace instead as the acidic walls of desperation crumble to dust around them.

As Professor Snape lays his skeletal fingers across the back of Draco's head for him to rest it on his shoulder, I wonder if this is how Draco looked as a baby. It's easy to picture Professor Snape consoling him from a cry before putting him down for a nap. I'm almost sure it's true as the Professor allows his eyes to close against Draco's hair, tightening his grip around his back. His rich voice murmurs to rest in the silent spaces -

"I'll be with you. Always."

xoXOXox

Luna has finally convinced herself to depart her perch on Godfather's stool, grasping my hand to make the long walk to find my mother. We stride in silence, taking in the scorched walls and scratched flooring, loose ceilings and tapestries burned into vacant black screens. She erupts in maniacal giggles every few metres or so, muttering shallow explanations of "your baby" or "Professor Snape is so small" as she shakes her head to relieve the tension.

By the time we make it to the seventh floor, her odd outbursts have me shivering inside, unsettling my already unstable digestion and the faltering steadiness of my stride. I force my Occlumency shields to attention as suspicions of her well-being having been thoroughly disturbed start to weave their way into my consciousness. She stops abruptly in front of the tapestry of dancing trolls, meticulously studying it as she melts cross-legged to the floor.

"What are you doing, darling?" I ask, forcing the terror to refrain from making itself known in my voice.

"Isn't it absurd, Draco?" she asks rhetorically, pointing to the picture. "Trolls can dance, and humans can turn into smoke, and I can kill a person."

She looks at me with an unhinged serenity, her wide sky eyes growing cloudy as milk over ice.

"I murdered them, Draco. I murdered your aunt, I murdered the dueller…" She trails off to stare back at the tapestry. "I let my monsters roam free, Draco. They broke out of their cages for a moment and people died."

"That's utter rubbish, Luna. Those people were trying to kill us. They were the monsters," I remind her.

"We were trying to kill them, and we succeeded spectacularly," she whispers, her voice haunting the air between us. "And yet… the tears won't come, Draco. I don't even care."

"We're not murderers, Luna. We're soldiers. Defenders. We saved so many from a fate worse than death."

"A fate worse than death… Yes." she rambles, staring into nothing, or perhaps a world of her own creation. "Like what your cousin went through this afternoon. That senseless torture, the fate worse than death. Is that what we were fighting for, Draco? There's no justice in the world. It's all unfair. There's no logic to it."

She says this like it's her first time discovering this fact. I've seen her heart break, but her mind - her precious, brilliant mind - is crumbling before me and it's too much to bear. The light going out in her eyes shreds my soul into slivers. I kneel beside her taking her beautiful face in my hands.

"Listen, Luna," I say gently "It can be fair. It can be logical. But only with people like you in it, ok? I need you to stay here with me for a while, just a little while longer, my love." I run the back of my hand down her cheek. It's soft as powder, smooth and dry, desperate for the cleansing release of her pain. "Stay with me until we can bury Dory's body, until we can meet the baby, ok? Then you can get lost in that labyrinth inside your head if you need to."

She grips my hand to stand, staring at me as if through a fog, something separating us that I can't put my finger on.

"Ok," she replies lifelessly, reaching for the door handle.

The Room of Hidden Things is nearly empty at our return, the enormous wards replaced by a handful of lingering gingers alongside families of Dumbledore's army. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Hermione sitting in Potter's lap on the grass, both of them swaying back and forth as they shed quiet tears into each other. They must be under a silencing charm, as the Weasel's lips move in what is surely a joke but its sound can't be heard across the emptiness.

Mother and Andi are away from the others, Mother casting cooling charms across my aunt who stands immodestly in an undershirt and trousers with her arms outstretched to her sides. Her olive skin has blistered bright red, her silken hair is visibly as dry and brittle as stable-bedding.

"Andi, I'm so sorry…" Mother murmurs as she continues to send her cooling winds.

"Nonsense, Cissy. You're too proficient with your wards. Don't apologise for being exceptional."

"You were not the intended occupant."

"Remind me to never find myself on that list."

The two women smirk at each other, a knowing tell they are in on a joke the rest of us cannot comprehend.

Luna sprints towards them as soon as she catches their sight, kicking off her shoes in her haste. She flings herself into my mother's arms, nearly knocking her over with the affection. Mother looks to me with alarm written all over her features. I shake my head almost imperceptibly for I too am taken aback by the display.

"I'm so sorry…" Luna gasps "I'm so sorry for your loss Lady Malfoy." She turns to Aunt Andi "And Mrs Tonks, it's so horrible..." Seeing the burns on my aunt's arms, Luna takes one of Andi's hands in both of hers, bowing to place her forehead on her knuckles. "I hope… I hope…" she chokes out, rivers of saltwater streaming out of her beautiful eyes, down her cheeks, and through her nose. "I hope they… soar in the… stars." Luna falls to her knees, burying her face in her arms in an uncontrollable sob. I rush to lift her, but Mother is already kneeling in front of her.

"Quite magnanimous of you to consider our grief, Mrs Granger," Mother croons, pulling one of Father's handkerchiefs from the pocket of her robes to wipe my lovely's tears. The sight ties my stomach in knots. "You must understand we are far beyond you in years, and we've seen death before."

Mother has a majestic way with diplomacy, spinning the truth so thin one can swallow it without so much as a sip of bitterness. "Seen death before" is indescribably more palatable than "A woman was eaten by a snake on our drawing-room table," or "My eldest sister was gutted on the floor in front of me."

"But Tonks!" Luna moans, gulping in air as she digs her nails into her ribs, "Your daughter! Your only child!" she wails towards Aunt Andi who is dabbing at her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Shh…" Mother coaxes, "Our tears wouldn't please her, now would they?"

Luna sniffles, wiping her nose indelicately on her sleeve. Mother for her part remains stone still, not so much as scrunching her face in repugnance.

"Lord… Lord Malfoy!" she hiccups, turning to look at me with her bloodstained eyes, running her cold, sweating fingers down my jaw.

Mother gracefully guides her chin back around to look her in the eyes.

"Ms Granger, I have known for many years my husband would suffer a violent death. Those who live in the manner he did will always suffer an undesirable fate."

Her unsaid words hang like a noose around my neck.

'_I thought I could change him. I thought my love would save him. I hoped he would return to be the man he once was. I took the risk, but I was wrong.'_

Luna says nothing, opting to drop her head in concentrated shame towards the floor. She is mourning for all of us, thus forgetting to mourn for the one who matters most.

"How about we arrange a visit with your father, hm?" Mother asks "I believe you are far overdue for an audience with him, Mrs Granger."

"L-Luna," my wife chokes out wiping her face and nodding rapidly "Please, call me Luna. We're family now, aren't we?"

"We are indeed," Mother replies brushing Luna's curls back. Mother stands as tall as she can at her minuscule height, pulling Luna up with her. Together, they could be giants; Titans among us. "As your Mother - in Law, by Magic, and in Love - I would like to welcome you, Luna Ginger Granger, to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black."

Luna, obviously lacking knowledge of this impromptu welcoming ritual, bows her head and says her thanks to Mother. I step forward, reciting the proper response.

"We graciously accept your generous invitation to join your Noble House. We will honour your name with our lives."

"As we will honour the name of Granger," Mother responds.

Mother and Andi both bow gracefully with one ankle tucked behind the other, sharing the same knowing smirk from earlier this evening.

"I don't have anything so elaborate," Luna adds "but I love you too, Narcissa, and I'm happy to be a part of your family."

"And I am happy to have such a sufficient pairing for my son. Come, let's get to my sister's house. We have additional family members to attend to."

"Wait," I say, jogging on my wobbling legs to meet the Trio beneath their charms. Hermione waves her wand to allow me entrance. "Come on," I bid. "We have to prepare for my cousin's funeral."

The Weasel hangs his mouth open, staring dumbstruck.

"Uh… I'll go to the Burrow," he says, jerking his thumb in the direction of his copper-haired kinsman.

"Later," I tell him, "For now, you need to come with us."

He continues mutely gaping as Potter and Hermione begin walking towards my Mother and Luna.

"Are we going to talk about it, mate?" he asks, fear permeating his every sound.

"You saved my life. What is there to discuss?" I ask, raising an eyebrow in question.

"I killed your dad, mate. I… I didn't mean to be so…" he makes a horrible face, stretching his mouth down to his neck in some caricature of revulsion. "He was going to kill you, and after Fred, I just couldn't…"

"It's alright, mate," I tell him, clapping him on the shoulder. "But please repeat that to my Mother, and the word you were looking for is 'brutish.'"

"Brutish," he repeats, nodding once. "I can remember that. Sounds like one of those odd muggle names," he says with a barely noticeable grin.

"That's Brutus, idiot," I tell him, pushing his head to the side. "It would seem you received all of the colouring in the family but I was gifted with all of the intelligence."

"Sod off, Granger."

"You first, Weasel."

We make our way back to Mother and Andi. The Weasel awkwardly apologises and Mother obligingly accepts, Potter disgustingly bites his nails while Hermione sips nausea draught, and Luna buries her face in my chest as I wish for the whole endeavour to be finished with. We fly to the apparition point and make our way to Andromeda's.

Upon landing in the sitting room of her usually quiet home, I know my wish will not be granted for a long, tedious while.

xoXOXox

We arrive back at Mrs Tonks' home to the piercing screams of a newborn. Professor Lupin is pacing the floor, bouncing his son in his arms as he tries to get him to take a bottle. It's been all night since the battle began, and the first rays of sun are lingering over the back garden to splay through the square windows across the wooden floor.

The air holds still in my chest as I see the baby's face. He's so tiny and new, bright red and scaly with half-cleaned away birthing fluids. He is stretching his tiny arms, arching his back as he screams for his mother. I step towards him, entranced by the sadism of it all, of how fate could be so cruel to such a small creature.

"May I hold him?" I ask Professor Lupin.

His eyes are bloodshot, his skin leathery and scarred. He smells of tobacco smoke and day-old blood - mourning and endless regrets.

"Please be gentle," he tells me, releasing the last memory of Tonks into my arms.

The baby's wails grow louder for a second, then he smells me. He sniffs and sniffs, shaking his head to send the most adorable sneeze into the air.

"Bless you," I say in my softest tone, looking into the eyes that can't yet focus.

The baby startles for a moment before sniffing again, latching onto my shoulder with his parched lips. He continues gumming along my collarbone until I realize what he's searching for.

"You won't find any milk in there, little one," I tell him, reaching one finger out to Professor Lupin.

He drips a drop onto the pad of my finger and I place it in the baby's mouth. He sucks heartily - almost painfully - as his bony gums quest for more. I open my palm for the bottle, which Professor Lupin places there. I slip my finger out of the boy's mouth with a pop to replace it with a fountain he can drink from. Bubbles begin to form in the glass as he pulls down the nourishment which will fuel his new life.

"There," I say "All better." I turn to Professor Lupin, who looks as if he could sleep for a thousand years straight now that the crying has stopped. "What's his name?"

"Teddy," he says "After his grandfather,"

"Well, Teddy, it's quite nice to meet you. I'm your cousin Luna, and we are going to have lots of fun together."

Draco wraps his arms around me from behind, placing a kiss to the top of my matted hair as I stare deeply into Teddy's blue eyes. No, not blue, grey. The dark ginger clumps of hair stuck to his scalp begin to transform, turning the softest white beneath the dirtiness.

"He's a metamorphmagus," I say to no one in particular, hoping the fact of it will stay the swell of feelings I'm not ready to accept. Maybe one day Draco can teach me to occlude.

"Beautiful, isn't he?" Draco asks softly, stroking the down away from the baby's face around the bottle.

The suckles grow fewer and farther between, ending with a burst of bubbles as Teddy let's go to fall asleep.

"He is," I reply, "You are."

Draco comes around in front of me to take his cousin from my arms, striding away to find a suitable place to lay him to sleep.

"Don't go in there!.." Professor Lupin pleads as Draco toes open the door to the bedroom, instantly turning around to make his way up the stairs.

"Don't worry, Remus, I'll take care of her." Narcissa consoles him, closing the door all but a crack. "Will someone please call Severus? I can't seem to cast a patronus with… Dory's wand."

She walks into the room to shut the door, and I'm left alone with my feelings. I desperately need work to keep my hands and unstable mind busy.

"Mrs Tonks?" I ask, turning to Draco's aunt "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Call Severus," she says, sinking defeatedly into the sofa "I can't cast a patronus right now."

In an hour or so, we're all gathered in the back garden around a funeral pyre holding the body that once housed Nymphadora Tonks. At the request of the Black sisters, we all have on formal robes, navy blue tinged with silver here and there. How similar this ritual is to those all around the world - wear something special, get all of the sad out, say your last farewell and remember them fondly.

Professor Snape says a few beautiful words about Tonks - her bravery and selflessness, daring and kindness, loyalty and conviction above the seething opinions of others. All of these things I know to be true. The world lost a jewel, and it's our job now to let her brilliance sparkle through us. He casts a containment charm around the pyre as Narcissa lights the flames, then it's over. Tonks is gone forever.

I hold Draco tightly as he lets streams of regret pour down. Although we all release our pain through our expressions, he's grieving more than most of us. He lost her while she was still alive.

As the last of the smoke clears, we file into the house to take up our customary sleeping areas. Draco and I open the door to our room to see a little human fast asleep in the centre of the tufted bed, feather-soft white hair gleaming in the sunlight.

We each snuggle to either side of him, forgoing the blankets and pillows for the warmth of our hands against his round stomach.

I wonder what we will say to him when he's old enough to ask "Where's my Mummy?" Will we try to be honest, to tell him the wicked hearts of wizards and witches stole her away from him? That we sent her love for him with smoke into the air because not one single person was brave enough to demand she be treated like a human being?

I dig the tip of my wand into my arm, hard. I burn it hot until the white blisters into the brightest, most saturated bubblegum pink I can imagine.

Or will we mislead him for his innocence? Tell that half-lie the Blacks seem so proud of? Should we let him think her soul is all in one place, just waiting to be reunited with him? Or will we explain in detail she's never coming home and her ashes can only return to the stars?

I stare at the brilliant pink star shining life over the kitten, and I know I'll do everything in my power to ensure he knows the truth.


	26. His Shadow Shouts

_A/N: For the sake of this chapter let's assume Xeno never tried to turn the Trio over to Voldy._

_Enjoy,_

_Vine_

The world stops turning in the wake of the Dark Lord's defeat. The stillness is maddening. Every motionless breath is interrupted by a screaming child or any number of loved ones needing something from us. It's a simple decision to move around if only to see if one place holds fewer answers than the last.

My uncle, Ted Tonks, returns home to meet Teddy, Mother and I for the first time the day after the battle. The Ministry is reconstructed overnight, with Kingsley Shacklebolt taking the position of Minister swiftly - so swiftly it could have been the plan all along. Potter and Hermione return to the old Black residence while she scours the ancient library for information on reversing memory charms. Godfather sleeps between Prince Manor and Andromeda's, swearing he will never step foot on the Hogwarts grounds again.

We spend days attempting to contact Luna's father to no avail. Communication to Saint Mungo's and Azkaban is useless. The institutions are so overcrowded the staff have no time to answer missives or pleas from visitors. I'm beginning to run out of hope of ever meeting my father-in-law alive.

Luna and I chance to approach the Lovegood home only to find it vacant. It feels like walking into a portrait, everything frozen in time as if it's occupants have merely stepped out for a stroll. There is tea in the kettle, an open newspaper on the kitchen table, a cloak left on the hook. Luna departs with me in a dazed emptiness, a shallow longing not backed by the winds of hope.

After a week has passed we attempt to return to the Manor only to find the outside of the gates overrun with Aurors and curse-breakers trying in futility to circumvent the wards. Mother and I weren't notified of this unwelcome intrusion. It seems we never are. As such, we depart as soon as we came. If the governing bodies don't have the decency to alert us to their conniving presence, we will repay them in kind by not opening the gates.

Two weeks after the final battle, a knock comes to Andromeda's door. Gentle, tactful, light but firm rapping. A tall golden body stands in the threshold carrying a double bouquet of coral and white roses. Mother's roses.

"Blaise," I breathe in shock, the cup of tea I was holding shattering into a lukewarm mess on the floor "You're alive."

"Indeed I am," he croons "As are you, prince. Invite me in?"

I swing the door open to allow him entrance, vanishing the spilt tea before Mimsy has a chance to lambast me for it.

We sit stock still across from each other in the parlour chairs for eternity, him perusing me with his catlike eyes as if he has no place better to be in the world. My chest rises and falls with laboured breaths. I'm afraid if words pass my lips I'll awaken screaming and the nightmare will begin once more.

The sound of Mother's prim pumps echoes in the corridor towards us, but I can't manage to break my concentration. I'm studying each line of him - the faint brown hair grazing his jaw tastefully, the low curls shining in the lamplight, his long fingers caressing the arm of the overworn chair like the finest Persian rug. The supple black shoe leather doesn't crease against his feet as he stands, doesn't make a sound as he glides across the room.

"Mamma," he greets cooly, cupping Mother's face in one hand as he kisses her on the cheek, "I've brought something to return to you," He lifts the extravagant bouquet from a side table, leaning it directly under her nose. "...and a gift from Esperanza." He reaches into his pocket, taking out a peach coloured wine that is undoubtedly worth more than the crystal it will be consumed from.

I don't deign to listen to Mother's reply, saving all of my focus for the wizard before me. Words are a commodity with Blaise, more than the gifts, more so than life. If knowledge is power, he sits on a throne of secrets as heir to an empire of unseen gold. I don't know what to make of it anymore. As such, I ask the most prudent question I can to open the bargaining table -

"How did you find me?"

He laughs from deep in his chest, my ignorance tickling the depths of his amused heart.

"Really, prince? You're shit at hiding."

"I'm not hiding."

"Anymore."

"Touche."

He leans his elbows forward to rest on his knees, his long limbs collecting in painful reminiscence of a crouching acromantula.

"Why am I here? So glad you asked, darling." he mocks with a predatory grin "I've missed you too, and I'm afraid to say I'm quite worried for your sanity. One too many swims in the deep end, prince?"

"I'm fine," I lie, hoping he'll play along. I don't know why I torture myself so.

"Truly? Do tell," he says leaning back against the battered grey velvet. I say nothing. "Mmm. And you haven't contacted me, why again? Oh yes, too busy playing dead. Which was needless, might I add."

"I couldn't, Blaise. I would have led them right to you..."

"Ye of little faith," he interrupts, shaking his head as if answering an insipid question from a child. "You're terrible at hiding, prince; not me."

He taps his immaculately manicured fingertips against each other, expecting an apology that won't come. I'm not sorry for staying behind with Mother. I'm not sorry for risking my life. I'm not sorry for Luna. Esperanza may have gone through the trouble of bringing me across a hostile border as a favour to her son, but I highly doubt my mother and wife would have warranted her good graces - much less Hermione or the Weasel, not that they would have come.

He breaks the silence -

"Are we sad about il papà, or good riddance? Which day is it?"

"Neither...nothing," I spit, "He was nothing."

"I see," he coaxes, standing in a tease of bidding me farewell. "Well then, I suppose you won't be needing _my _assistance since you are perfectly _fine_, positively _dandy," _he goads in that irritatingly fruitful sarcasm of his. "Does kissing death on the lips have you smitten, prince?"

I dare not call his bluff as I know this opportunity will only present itself once.

"I need to locate her father. Make sure she's somewhere safe before they come for me."

"Ah, the stories are true then, Mr Granger? Congratulations," he purrs.

I grant his desires, singing like the trapped bird I am - the one he has caught in a corner.

"The Malfoy vaults are under siege, all I have is a magic carpet. It's been damaged."

"I'm listening."

"Sectumsempra to the tassels. It might still fly."

He grants me a half-mouthed smile, hypnotizing me with his golden stare.

"Oh, I'm certain a little stitching will have it right as rain." He arches a perfect chocolate brow. "Half when I find daddy dearest, and the rest when you decide to play footsie with Dementors then? I'll remind you one final time my mother has offered her services."

The picture of what awaits me if I accept his offer plays over again in my mind: Living out my days as a fugitive in a foreign country without my family's wealth to lean on. Working demeaning jobs - or worse, working for Blaise and being beholden to his fickle whimsy and outlandish schemes. Dragging Luna along with me. Luna refusing to flee and being separated from her. Being torn from Mother, again. Abandoning Andi, _Teddy,_ all the people I've grown accustomed to caring for.

"I'll take my chances," I say "It's worth at least going to trial."

If worse comes to worst I'll get visitation a few times per month. In the most serendipitous case, I'll be awarded what's left of the Malfoy fortune and my heirs can stand proud upon my grave. Everyone I love will never know deprivation again.

"Suit yourself, prince. Give me a week," he dismisses, gripping one of his broad hands over the door to see himself out.

He pauses on the handle, sliding his feline eyes to absorb my figure from foot to head. He changes his mind - as he's prone to do - slinking over to me to place his hand against my face. His heavy lips brush my cheek a moment too long as the silken skin of his thumb caresses the hollow above my jaw. Demise couldn't sound sweeter than when it's delivered in liquid silver of his voice. He murmurs in my ear the killing bite.

"You never listen, prince."

xoXOXox

Three weeks after the final battle, a visitor arrives.

It's Blaise again. As much as I truly want to meet Draco's friends, I haven't been invited, so I listen. I stand at the periphery between the kitchen and sitting room, singing to Teddy while I bounce him on my shoulder.

"Found him," Blaise begins without greeting.

"Where?" Draco replies,

"Don't ask questions you don't want answers to, prince."

"Where is he now?"

"In the hospital."

"Why?"

"Talking crazy; well, crazier than usual. And rat bites. Droves of them." I can hear the eye roll in Blaise's silky tone. "Nearly starved, cruciatus, you name it."

"Fuck. They knew."

"Of course they knew. You should truly leave skullduggery to trained professionals, darling."

"Please don't, Blaise. I'm married."

"Hmm. Quaint."

Silence.

"How ill-informed are you, prince?"

"I don't know what I don't know, do I?" Draco bites sarcastically.

"Do you know Nott is dead?"

It's at this point I move fast to take the baby to Remus. I run through the sitting room to the parlour to see Draco staring blankly ahead of him, motionless.

"No," he whispers without a change of expression.

Blaise doesn't seem to have an ounce of sorrow in his eyes as I round the corner. Maybe he's a stronger Occlumens than Draco. It's hard to get a read on him since his aura changes colours with the wind.

"It's true. Overdosed. Died of a broken heart," he says more nonchalantly than the situation calls for.

"What do you need from me, kitten?" I interject, rubbing his shoulder gently to get him to look up at me. He doesn't, preferring to concentrate on Blaise's shoes instead.

"I'll be fine," he assures himself.

"You must be the beautiful Mrs Granger," Blaise says to me.

"No, that's Hermione," I respond on instinct without taking my eyes off of Draco. "Well, Miss for her actually, but you understand the point. Slytherins always do."

"Ah, not always, Bellissima. Your dear kitten might agree," he responds.

The way he said that rings with the distinct sound of an insult. I turn to see his eyes filled with amusement. Not an occlumens then - just heartless.

"Who had the rat bites?" I ask to take his scrutiny away from Draco. "Crucio is a simple fix so long as it's caught in time. I hope they are being treated well."

Blaise slides his eyes to my love.

"Not my news to deliver," he states calmly.

Draco pulls his hair from the roots, begging his Occlumency shields to work. He takes a deep inhale to say his piece in one breath.

"Your father was found in the Manor dungeons, Luna. He's in Saint Mungo's now."

Blaise stands tall to his feet as the news hits me in the chest.

"Do excuse me, Mrs Granger, I have an errand to attend to. Draco, we'll settle our payment on my next visit, yes?"

"Take it now," he says, reaching in his pocket to hand over the larger part of the shrunken, shredded carpet.

"Too generous for your own good, prince," Blaise replies, bending to kiss Draco on the cheek.

He blows another kiss in my direction as he makes his way to the front door.

"Try not to let the melodrama ruin your day, doll. You still have a lot left to lose."

I let the door click quietly shut on his way out without so much as a wave goodbye.

He's right, if insensitive. I stand to lose what's left of my world. Losing is not something I'm good at. Draco isn't either. That's why neither of us can sit still. In the quiet moments and unmoving spaces we both feel the weight of our shattered realities, so we have to run about. We force ourselves to go collect the scattered remains, piecing them back together to build a life we can feel at ease in.

"So, Theo's grave first, or Saint Mungo's, my love?" I ask.

I instantly can't bring myself to call him "darling" anymore. I've come to realize today that word is not mine. Either Blaise has stolen it from me or I have used it without his permission. Either way, I don't wish to bring up the images it likely does for my love. I wonder how many times I've unknowingly called to Draco's mind a picture of a person who toys with him so.

"The living are more important than the dead. Let's tend to them first," he responds.

"Not more important, more urgent," I correct him.

"Let's go then,"

"No kitten, I have to go alone. There may be aurors to control the crowd."

"Fuck them. If they take me today, we can get this behind us sooner rather than later."

My heart lurches at the thought. Luckily, my lover is an intelligent person who listens well to reason.

"I understand not wanting to wait, kitten, but isn't it better to wait out here with me than in there with dementors?"

He pauses for a moment, mulling over my words and their implications.

"Take Godfather with you, he'll be able to get you in sooner. I'll go to the Black house while you're out. I'm sure there will be a book there to help me find Theo's resting place."

We kiss goodbye to depart into the inevitable.

I arrive at Saint Mungo's to the crowd I had expected. There is a line flowing to the sidewalk with several clusters of people standing on the grass. Some are smoking muggle tobacco, others are shouting pointlessly at the guards. A line of aurors blocks the entrance, allowing in only one visitor at a time. I stand on my tiptoes in an attempt to find Professor Snape. I catch sight of his shiny black hair over the people, murmuring excuses and pardons as I make my way to him.

I greet him with a hug as I bury my face in his robes. He smells like fresh linen and dark spaces, reminding me for a moment of a sound night's rest.

He pats my back once, bidding me to let him go, so I do. I feel his arm barely touch my shoulder as he leads us silently to the front of the line stopping to glare at one of the aurors, who unwisely snarks with a terrible sneer on his face.

"You'll have to wait in line like every…" he begins, only to be cut short by my Professor.

"Severus… Snape," he growls, pulling out his badge from the Order of the Phoenix. "On official Ministry business."

"I'll need to see your wand, and the girl will have to wait outside," the auror responds defiantly.

Professor Snape snarls like he did before melting Karakoff into a writhing lump of terror.

"Imbecilic bloody ingrate. You can't possibly expect everyone to have maintained a wand during a full-on bloody war! The girl is my goddaughter who is under my protection and will under no pretences be left unattended during this visit."

"Sorry, doc. Rules," the auror says with an infuriating grin.

"I doubt Minister Shacklebolt would agree. Kingsley would be revolted to see his forces refusing to grant access for an innocent victim to see her ill father after being tortured by Voldemort's sycophants."

This, fortunately, seems to break something in the stubborn auror, who ushers us in grudgingly after nodding towards some senior official wearing black.

"Ministry," he mumbles towards his superior, who for her part shakes her head in exasperation.

We're guided to the Intensive Spell Damage Unit where patients are piled three to one room. The sterile smell is enough to make me queasy, so I focus on breathing through my mouth. We scan the plaques searching for the name Lovegood until we finally arrive at a room towards the middle of the hall. I step inside to see dad past two sleeping patients against the far wall, sitting on a thin bed with light blue sheets staring blankly into the distance. He doesn't move as I approach.

"Dad?" I say

He doesn't look towards us.

"Dad, it's Luna… I'm here with Professor Snape."

"Snape? No, I just ate an hour ago," he says.

I look to my Professor, but his expression doesn't change.

"Ok… Dad, it's Luna. I'm here with you, I'm safe."

"Lucius, my brother, I still don't know where they are," he says, shaking his head. "I've told you, again and again, trying to beat it out of me can't make me know something I don't."

I step in front of him, attempting to make him see the truth for what it is.

"Dad, it's me. The war is over. We won."

"Oh, you were always the gloating sort, weren't you Lucius? At least your glamour charms are getting better. Luna's eyes were more blue than grey, as I'd said."

Tears start to sting in my eyes. Dad thinks this is all a hoax. His mind is stuck in that dark and mouldy dungeon.

"You have to know it's me, Dad. You remember our trip to Greenland, don't you? When we saw the fairies by the lake?"

His eyes light with a spark of remembrance, then it's gone.

"If you want to make yourself into my daughter maybe you could make me into your son, then we can both remember them together. Sadly, it won't bring them back, though.

Professor Snape sets his hand on my shoulder, so I turn to look up at him.

"It's going to take time," he says solemnly.

"Oh, Severus! Good, you're here! I was just getting hungry," Dad remarks as he hears Professor Snape's voice. "Thank you for shooing those rodents away, aside from Lucius anyway. Always trying to steal the food you bring me…"

My hopes drown into my sobs against the Professor's robes. He doesn't fight me off, instead absorbing all my tears upon himself.

xoXOXox

"Potter," I greet as the scoundrel opens the door.

"Where's Luna?" he responds tactlessly.

"Yes, I'm doing well, thanks. A bit of smarting from the slicing hex when the weather changes, but otherwise absolutely ordinary," I bite back, pushing my way past him through the threshold.

He sighs loudly.

"Look, Draco - I never see you two apart. No need for the dramatics."

"Yes, well, I never desire to see you without Hermione. Where is she?"

"In the library," he says pointing down a dark, narrow corridor stained with uncoloured rectangles where portraits once hung.

I follow the claustrophobic path until it gives way to an open door. The room could hardly be called a guest wardrobe, much less a library. The shelves tower to the ceiling on either side of the narrow space. They're packed with ancient books that fill the room with the smell of old parchment and bound leather. Hermione sits at an end table pushed against the shelving with a small, empty chair beside her. I knock on the wall, turning to step in sideways.

"Hullo," I greet cheerily, hoping not to set off her ire or add to her myriad of woes today.

"Hey, ferret," she replies, looking up from the colossal book she is running a translation charm over. "What's new?"

"We found Luna's father."

Her eyes widen in curious hopefulness before seeming to read my features.

"Is he alive?"

"Barely."

She winces.

"Yeah, it's going about the same here. I've skimmed over thirty different volumes on mind magic. So many have information on erasing memories, but none so far for retrieving them."

"I'm sure you've tried breaking apart the spells to work them in reverse?"

She sighs, running her fingers to get tangled in her hair.

"I have. It's more difficult and less accurate than you might think."

I might think, or I might not. Right now my focus is honed like a niffler to gold on the thin fingers trapped beneath the soft chocolate curls.

"What?" she snaps.

I jerk my head to attention.

"As you are my best witch I feel obligated to help you with something if you'll let me."

"Does it include bringing back my parents' memories or attachment theory in newborns? Those are the things I could use assistance with at the moment."

"No, much more mundane, I'm afraid," I reply, standing in the cramped space to slip behind her chair.

I cast the same charm I do for Luna every day, untangling the wild conglomeration to separate each curl. I run my fingers through it to the ends, dividing the mass into three thick sections to begin a braid. I take my time, feeling each silk strand flow through my fingers - in, out, over - until the last piece is in place. I conjure a thin ribbon the same colour as her hair to keep it tidy, then bid her to turn around, pulling a wisp from either side to frame her face.

"There. It won't do to have your hair falling in your eyes while you're trying to read."

"Thanks?" she asks more than says "I didn't know you were a stylist."

"Far from it," I respond "But one does not spend nearly twenty years with Narcissa Malfoy to come away without a basic proficiency."

She grins a bit, her expression falling just as suddenly.

"Speaking of…" she trails "You alright? Your father…"

"I'm fine. I don't miss him."

She nods.

"You don't, or you can't? Like you feel it's almost pointless because he's gone anyway and no amount of wishing he wasn't is going to change that?"

My heart stops beating as we lock eyes.

"Exactly, yes."

"Same."

We sit in silence as she returns to the translation spell, muttering muggle curse words every few pages. I accio a copy of the Pureblood Directory in hopes this edition is modern enough to update automatically. It is, and soon I find the entry I'm searching for.

A picture of Theodore Nott II pulls an assortment of memories from my occluding room, ones tinged blue with an unwelcome sadness, stained by the bitter longing of regret. His skin in the picture is still the colour of fresh cream. Thick, espresso hair and sapphire eyes sparkle deviously from the page. This is how I'll remember him. I refuse to allow the thoughts of him hollow and pallid, lifeless and cold to seep in around it.

I copy the entry and set off with my instructions, pulling Hermione into a sidelong hug in departure. I'd like to share my gratitude with her, tell her how much I needed the silence, how her acknowledgement mended a piece of my soul I didn't realize was torn. I convince myself she would not appreciate such sentimentality and thus turn sideways to slide towards the exit.

"Hey ferret?" she calls as I make my way out the door.

"Yes?"

"Thanks for the chat."

"Likewise."

xoXOXox

I finally realize the appeal of Professor Snape's robes. They're protective and cosy like a large, fresh blanket. Quite pleasant. I'll have to transfigure some for myself soon.

He's finally relented and given me the black cloak to wear over my clothes as we return to the Tonks' home. It hangs to my feet, floating above the ground to flow out behind me. The sleeves readjust themselves to stop perfectly at my wrists, tightening to keep the warm air in. I'm not much for wearing black, but the comfort, the fit, the way it makes me seem larger than I am - it feels like power.

Draco stares at me while we enter the sitting room. He has a curious light in his eyes as he tilts his head just a little to the left.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Nothing," he lies, shaking some picture out of his head. "You look nice. I'm a bit confused."

"You're confused because I look nice?"

"No!" he replies, scrunching his nose in imitation of his mum. "Never that, lovely. It's just… That cloak is supposed to look frightening, but instead, it's rather sexy on you. It's a bit unsettling is all."

"Fucking Salazar," Professor Snape drawls in exasperation from beside me, buttoning his sleeves up to show his forearms as he storms into the kitchen, undoubtedly to prepare another cup of coffee.

I take a seat on Draco's lap on the sofa, holding him close as he lays his head on my chest.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" I ask.

"I did. Did you?" he replies, summoning a piece of folded parchment from the end table.

"Not at all," I respond, unfolding the square gingerly.

Theo stares back at me from the page, grinning just short of winking at the camera. There are instructions to the Nott family cemetery along with a few kind words from friends beside him.

"I never got to know Theo," I tell Draco. "Would you like to tell me about him? It might help get the sad out."

He sends a fond laugh into my hair, tracing his finger along the outside of the portrait.

"Nott was the devil himself," he says with a beaming smile "So absurd. Always good for a laugh. He was forever concocting terrible plans to wind both of us up at the end of Father's cane. I always went along with him too, knowing he would get us out of it, and if he didn't the fun would be well worth the pain."

"Was it?" I ask.

He looks me in the eyes.

"For the most part," he nods sadly. A memory brightens his features, and he laughs again.

"One time, this idiot here," he says pointing to Theo "charmed one of Father's peacocks bright pink and spelled it to stand on one leg on the front lawn like a flamingo! For years we would both go around saying'10 thousand galleons! They cost ten thousand galleons a piece!' anytime we broke something because that's what father shouted at us when he found his precious bird so defiled."

We laugh together, feeling it wash over the wounded places in our hearts.

"You would have liked him," he says.

"I think you're right."

I look into Theo's mischievous blue eyes, so dark they're almost black, like a starless night. A thought occurs to me.

"He was quite handsome, like Blaise." I turn to look Draco in the eyes. "Were all of your friends your lovers, or just these two?"

I don't mention Pansy, but her name remains unspoken between us. I just want to know, not upset him. He wipes his hand down his face in exasperation. I see I've lifted the lid on Pandora's box.

"Blaise has never been a lover. I'm not sure I'd even call him a friend. He's more of a… permanent fixture if you will. Our families have had business dealings since before we were born."

"So he treats everyone like that, then?"

"Not exactly. He's used to getting what he wants. I think he's intrigued because I don't give him that, so he enjoys toying with me for sport."

"Mhmm," I reply noncommittally. I can't say I understand, but at least it makes more sense of Blaise's lack of pity for Draco's loss.

An obscenely loud banging comes from the front door, causing me to jump as Draco tightens his arms around me.

"Aurors!" is yelled from across the threshold. "You have ten seconds to open this door!"

Professor Snape storms in with his boots stomping in rage.

"Go," he commands Draco.

"I can't," my love replies.

I follow my Professor's footfalls as he glares a final piercing look at Draco before swinging the door open.

"What is the meaning of this?!" he hisses.

"Mrs Granger, or Mrs Tonks?" the auror asks me, disregarding the Professor's question.

"Mrs Granger," I reply obediently. I don't want to cause any additional problems for Draco.

"I need you to sign for this document," the auror responds.

"She will not be signing anything without legal consul!" the professor growls, snatching the parchment from the man.

"Mr Snape, if someone doesn't sign to confirm receipt of her fines we can take her into custody along with her husband," the auror impatiently snaps. "We have orders for the arrest of Draco Lucius Granger to be held for questioning."

I read over Professor Snape's shoulder. There is a whole list of fines for everything from the destruction of Malfoy property to desecration of bodies to changing our names without Ministry approval. The Professor summons a quill, scribbling his name across the bottom of a page before shoving it back towards the auror.

"Why would he need to appear for questioning? What idiotic farse of a reasonable excuse are you dolts using to paint my godson as the criminal he is not?"

Draco steps forward kissing the side of my neck as he slides his wand into the pocket of the cloak. The shards of my sky fall around me as my mind whirrs to pick them up and place them where they belong.

"Draco Granger, you are under arrest for the murder of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."


	27. His Wings are Clipped

_A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my Nyxxopedia. Stay tuned to PheonixDragon111 for a special drop on February 11, 2020. Love you, witch.__Vine_

My head is held high as I reach the front step. Tacitly, I stretch my wrists out to be bound. Let them see me surrender willingly. Golden ropes instantly ensnare me, carving away my most viable means of defending myself. My occlumency shields, battered though they are, serve me well one more time as every storm brewing in my gut holds fast behind their walls of impermeable steel. I shall guard my mind well, as it is the only place left that's out of the reach of my enemies.

I make no mistake, these are my enemies. Perhaps not each individual auror, but the system they represent - the one that surely gloated over my father's remains, revelled in the streets for every Dark life lost. They wish to exact vengeance upon me, extract my blood for all of their sins and call it justice.

I won't let them see me fall as I'm pushed roughly off of the step, landing swiftly to my feet to their collective fury. I stare vacantly into the distance, not a crease on my face to show my apprehension. I stay this way for weeks: gazing blankly as a dead man into nothing. When I am stripped of my clothing, I do not allow my dignity to be tossed away with it. When I am subjected to humiliating searches and derogatory scans, I force myself to remain nonplussed. When I'm locked in a cage to be forgotten - or to be remembered as a beast among men - I recall the dragon inside.

"Well aren't you pretty," growls the swine I'm assigned a pen with, licking his teeth in a feral carnality.

I continue my stare into the distance. Let the vermin think me to be dead.

In my imaginings, I'm more alive than any wretch deserves to bear witness to. Smoke pours from my nostrils, flames roar from my throat, my wings spread high across the moon.

xoXOXox

Life without Draco is dreadful. I feel the pain of his absence in every spare moment. The space between breaths writes his name in blood across my heart again and again. The lonely times dig holes into my soft spaces with a merciless sharpness. I kiss the handle of his wand every night before I cry myself to sleep, dreaming one day he will hold it again.

During the day I'm smothered by endless stacks of looming paperwork, suffocated by responsibilities, strangled by red tape. I have to come up with the money to pay the fines, which means taking ownership of my old home and all of the possessions in it to sell. I climb the mountains of flowery language day by day to prove over and over again that I am who I say I am. It takes even longer than it usually would since I can't have the Ministry scan my stolen wand. I'll have to get a proper one as soon as Ollivander reopens his shop. Eventually, I find a salesperson and put all of our old possessions on the market at once for a fraction of what they're worth. I just want it to be over with. I can't bear to look at the life I once had and hope to see its reflection ever again.

This is home now, Mrs Tonks house. I conjure all of our food to save her the trouble of buying it, and Mimsy works here in exchange for a pantry of her own. I take care of the baby sometimes when Professor Lupin and Mrs Tonks are at work, and we all pitch in together to make sure the household runs smoothly. I suppose this must be what it's like to live with family, an auntie and a mum, an uncle and a tiny cousin. It's a strange sort of kinship, but I like it. There is a comfortable clamour ever present in the house. The smell of cooked food floats up at regular intervals. Someone is always available to chat or to sit in silence together.

Narcissa holds up so much better than I do. I'm sure having a Death Eater husband for so many years kept her wits honed at dealing with this sort of thing. The very day Draco was arrested she began owling old Malfoy barristers, promising all of the gold in the Black vaults to bring her baby boy back home to us. I'm not sure how much she has left to pay them, but I gather it isn't a lot considering the strained looks of worry shared between her and Mrs Tonks when the conversation is brought up.

A brilliant tawny hawk flies in one day, pecking gingerly at the outer entrance to my room. Our room. Draco still lives here, he's just on an involuntary holiday in the bowels of hell. I open the window as the bird lifts its beak. I swear he's sneering down on me through his golden eyes.

"Come visit, Bellasima," is all that's written on the letter.

I show it to Narcissa because I don't have the energy to figure out what Blaise could want with me while Draco is incarcerated. She says he's probably offering to get me away from Britain and the reporters that will be breathing down my neck soon. I'm not sure how she deduced so much from three words, but then again that's why I'm not a Slytherin.

I suppose I'm not a Ravenclaw anymore, either. The school is in tatters and I have no illusions of returning to complete my N.E.W.T.s in the fall. It will be a miracle if I can hold onto my sanity that long. I'll go back to finish them eventually, but I'm not in any rush with the plethora of problems I need to solve outside of academia right now. I have to trust the DA and volunteers will get back to fixing Hogwarts after they get the pieces of their own lives back together.

Dad isn't getting any better. I've been limiting my visits as it seems to hurt me more each time. He always calls me Lucius and swears he's hungry as soon as he hears Professor Snape. I suppose I should be calling Professor Snape Godfather now, but that seems all too ominous a title for a person of his character. When I'm scared all of this is going to turn out wrong, I put on the cloak he let me keep. For some strange reason, it helps me be a bit more okay for a little while. I keep forgetting to ask him for the enchantment he keeps on his robes, the one that makes everything feel alright again.

It's on one of the days when I'm enjoying the billowy black fabric that I decide to pay a visit to Harry and Hermione. I haven't talked to them in ages with all that's going on. In the meantime, the walls have grown three sizes too small as the endless sounds of Teddy crying and Mimsy doing dishes is starting to poke holes in my concentration. Getting out of the house might clear my mind, at least enough to fill it with more thoughts about how to get my Draco back.

I arrive at Number 13 Grimmauld Place on a warm afternoon with a basket full of assorted biscuits wrapped in a yellow checkered cloth. Hermione meets me at the door with a tight hug around her newly round belly. She tells me all about Ron and Harry's plans to test out of their N.E.W.T.s to enlist in the auror academy together, as well as her lack of progress on reversing her parents' memory loss. We walk around Grimmauld for a while as she shows me where the nursery will be and how she plans to expand the library. I don't have the heart to tell her this home is infested with wrackspurts, so I just cast little repelling charms everywhere we walk. She offers me tea as we sit down on the sofa to share the biscuits while we wait for Harry to get back.

"I have no idea what's taking him so long. I only sent him out for bread and milk," she tells me with irritation.

I know what's keeping him. He's probably forgotten six times already what he went out for and picked up ten other things he didn't need.

"I'm sure he'll be along soon," I encourage.

Harry appears as if he's been summoned, carrying eight sacks of groceries, three of them containing different varieties of milk and bread.

"I forgot to ask if you wanted almond or soy, so I got both, and wheat and white and we were out of crisps so…"

"Thanks, love," Hermione says, standing to her feet to place a kiss on his forehead. I'm happy to see Harry has taken my advice to heart.

"Oh! Luna!" he exclaims as he realizes I'm here, dropping the sacks to the ground as he rushes to greet me in a hug. "I'm… I'm sorry I haven't owled. It's just been a lot with us preparing for the baby… and you know, have to keep them fed and all that…"

"It's fine, Harry," I reassure him, brushing his hair out of his eyes and casting a cleaning charm on his forever dirty glasses. "I'm glad you have priorities to keep you busy."

"Where's Draco?" he asks, looking around as if my husband will pop out from behind a corner to spook him.

Hermione curses under her breath.

"I'm so sorry, Luna! I've been rattling on about the baby and didn't even think to ask…"

I cut her off as the violent news I've been carrying for so long decides to bound from my lips.

"He's in a holding cell in Azkaban. They've been questioning him for four weeks."

"Four weeks?!" they yell simultaneously.

I forgot how much I missed their moments of Gryffindor outrage.

I answer a slew of questions about who took him and why; nodding along as they shout about the injustice of it. Towards the end, when tears are starting to sprinkle in my eyes, Harry straightens his back and grabs his cloak off the hook, Hermione following suit right behind.

"Come on, we have to set this right. We have a ferret to free."

xoXOXox

I'm shuffled along a tight, blinding corridor with my wrists and ankles shackled obscenely. I'm tossed like rubbish into the purposely ill-fitting chair as a charm links my chains to the table. Mother's barrister, Annyxxia Opedia, has summoned me prior to our scheduled weekly briefing. I remember her from Father's endless correspondence cancelling her contract after being betrothed to Percival Weasley. That was another of Father's insipid decisions that surely has haunted his legacy.

Luckily, Mother doesn't base her employment on such inconsequential matters as blood-status and marital contracts. Annyxxia the best money can buy, and surely she's bathing in galleons from this pursuit. She comes leagues more prepared than the general gold-mongering flatterers my father employed. Her cunning and tenacity is unmatched by those who deign to flatter themselves with the title of her peers. She knows every leaky crevice in the ancient laws and exploits them with a mastery only years of study and a whip-sharp mind can extract. Still, I expect the same deficient news: "We're doing our best, be patient, there will be a way out eventually."

The petite witch glides in unceremoniously, her majestically dark hair and eyes glowing radiantly with a smirk of unprecedented victory.

"We've just received new evidence in your case, Mr Granger," she purrs, "I could tell you about it, but I think it would be more satisfying to watch."

She pulls a travel Pensieve from her rollaway trunk, expanding it on the stone table before us. The silver liquid flows like a celebratory bottle of champagne into the vessel.

As I dip my head into the swirling fog I'm thrown back into one of my worst memories - this time from a curious angle. Instead of seething through phoenix flames, I'm standing below the deck to the Astronomy Tower waiting to see the cloudless night erupt in a morbid flash of green.

"Do it, Draco…" is hissed in a voice that haunts my nightmares.

"I'm sorry, Draco," is whispered in a husky tone, but not at the point I remember.

One elaborately clad foot slips backwards off the platform, falling into the emptiness before my spell connects.

I'm back in the dialogue room before the carnage happens - before I stand to view the Headmaster's shattered limbs thirty floors below.

Ms Opedia speaks in the triumphant tone of the cat who has a bird by the throat, her menace beautifully illustrating the unmitigated demise of her foes -

"Now, as you so evidently saw, Mr Granger, Mr Dumbledore committed suicide. Also, since you clearly heard your notorious late aunt threaten you, ostensibly under the penalty of torture and death, it is unquestioned that you were under extreme duress to fire the spell which ultimately did not end Mr Dumbledore's life. I dare say if we can get your trial expedited you will be home to your family by the end of the week with a hefty amount of reparations if I have any say in the matter, which I most certainly will."

I'm stuck stupid at the mercy of her brilliance, choked by the hope begging to release itself from my fickle throat. Has she tampered with the memory? Could this all be an elaborate plot to let me loose of this cage only to worry for the rest of my life that my freedom hinges on a lie?

I ask the question that will seal my destiny - be it one of looking over my shoulder as my relentless Fates stalk and goad me, or one that will truly set me free -

"Who provided this memory?"

The barrister bares her teeth in the most ferocious imitation of a smile, one that lights her eyes with the predaceous glee of a successful conquest.

"Harry Potter,"

For the first time in the past month, my breath flows in freely. If there is one human in the world who is incapable of lying proficiently, it's the Saviour of Wizardkind and Pain in my Arse himself. I let down my occlumency shields methodically, allowing my forehead to smash into my arms as I sob into the grey-on-grey tatters of this wretched uniform.

The barrister takes my sweat-soaked, trembling hands in hers.

"I promise everything is going to be okay, Mr Granger. More than okay. I'm going to ensure you get home to your wife and mother without so much as the taste of this place on your breath."

I nod along with murmured whimpers escaping my shaking ribs.

xoXOXox

Everything is going according to plan. We have conjured white roses filling the house with their soft fragrance, hot apple streusel and vanilla bean ice cream on the expanded table. All of our friends and family are gathered around with waiting hugs and rose gold bottles of champagne. I've stashed a bottle of Firewhiskey that Blaise imported for me just for this occasion, and Hermione is on standby with one of the strongest Oblivation charms known to Wizardry.

I've made myself a brilliant silver gown which Professor Snape has charmed with all of his billowing prowess. It hugs me perfectly underneath the black cloak, and I'm absolutely certain Draco will appreciate the gesture. A soft pinkish-gold frames my eyes and jingles with the delicate chains I have draped around my feet and wrists. I'm storm clouds and rain drops, windstorms and sunshine creating a blessed glowing lining. I want him to remember the sky in all of its glory when he sees me.

"Come, it's time," Narcissa instructs, taking my hand in hers.

"Ready," I reply with a smile.

"Aren't you going to wear any shoes?" she asks with an arch of her thin black brow.

"No. They would get in the way of running to greet Draco."

She accepts this answer and we apparate away. We are met by a fragile boat on the shores of the tumultuous North Sea, a shabby wooden vessel carrying released persons to the rocky shore. The smell of salt water on the breeze sings of freedom, the wet wind kissing my face with the promise of a returned life.

I see him, a tuft of silver hair above a pallid face stained with the turmoil of abuse. His muscles are lined with tension, but he smiles nonetheless. His face breaks open in a burst of glowing sun when our eyes meet, and he jumps over the side of the boat into the shallow water.

I take off at a sprint towards him, the cushioning charm beneath my feet making the shards of seashells feel like smooth pebbles beneath my soles. The speed of the wind pushes me along, whipping back my hair and billowing through my cloak as I rush towards my dreams.

We come colliding into each other, cold seawater and sharp rocks and turgid pain all blissfully melting away against the warmth of our bodies together.

I strip off the cloak to wrap around his trembling shoulders. He's a blizzard of colossal proportions as it resizes to fit his taller frame. He could be commander of the winds themselves as the waves crash and war behind him, conquer of the very air I breathe.

"I missed you… so much…" he mumbles between gasps of air as he plows his lips against mine again and again.

"Same," I murmur grazing my teeth along my favorite spot.

He runs his hand up the silk line of my waist, sending a cleansing warmth where the cold air batters my skin. I tangle my fingers in his greasy hair, closing him against me to never be separated again.

"Pardon me," Narcissa states primly, stepping alongside us to pull her son into her arms. "We do have guests awaiting our return and a celebration to attend to."

I grab onto her shoulder to be whisked away home.

xoXOXox


	28. The Dawn Bright Lawn

**A/N: Here we are at the end, dear readers. I'd like to thank you all for completing this fic. There is a surprise waiting for you at the end.**

**Vine**

My Mother's parties are known throughout the Wizarding World for their splendour. The elegant decor, ensemble orchestras and sumptuous meals have kept Witch Weekly reporters busy with scrying for longer than I've been alive.

That being said, I'm more impressed by the small affairs, the intimate rosters reserved for the most elite of guests, the ones we actually care for.

On my arrival, I'm greeted by everyone who's anyone in wizarding society these days. Godfather, Hermione and Potter, the Weasel and his brothers, all intermingled with those of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black and the Novel and Most Fortuitous House of Granger.

White roses and crisp, pristine tablecloths preside over the light green walls and deep cherry floors. Floating candles light every surface in a soft Amber glow as the smell of caramelized apples and cinnamon tempts me to forgo required pleasantries to gorge myself on sweets.

I control my baser urges to be wrapped in warm arms and salty tears of joy as Hermione runs first to greet me.

"I'm so sorry…" she sobs into Godfather's cloak I wear. "I didn't know or we would have come sooner. There was no reason for you to endure such a…"

"Shh…" I console her, placing a chaste kiss to her barely contained curls.

I don't wish to be reminded of my undue imprisonment, regardless of my penchant for enjoying her righteous outrage. I pat her back to soothe her worries only to be pulled away by a more rough and warm hand over mine.

"She's right," Potter tells me with his ridiculous, virtuous gallantry. "We would have been there straight away."

He stares at me with a hereto unseen conviction, his straight spine and dedicated defiance clearly communicating this past six weeks has forged a man of the Boy Who Lived. I can't make myself care for his motivations. The only pertainent fact is that he did it, he took action to rescue me, to release a dead man into the realm of the living.

I pull him into a brotherly embrace, his cheap muggle cologne gagging me with the tinge of alcohol base as his wild black locks rest against my shoulder.

"I'll owe you forever, Potter," I tell him earnestly, separating from him before I can be stained with his odour for the remainder of the evening.

"You don't owe me anything, Draco. I don't expect you to reward me for saving those left behind."

I shake his strong hand, so much more calloused and rough than the smooth scarring of my own. We have both been worn by the blade, whittled by the jaws of Death herself.

"Alright, Harry. We'll call our debts absolved."

"Speaking of debts…" a lilted purr calls from my left. Blaise towers over me, his feline grace accentuating the perfectly tailored black robes to cast him as a shadow in the night. "I don't usually accept such gratuitous payments for such trivial conquests. I got rid of the carpet and half the galleons are in a vault under the name Granger. It's a pitiful start for your little brood, but it should do to see you standing."

He glides away to refill his champagne before I can respond in my awestruck state. To see his mercy come to fruition is unprecedented, but I've never expected predictability from a fixture so chaotic.

Luna approaches me with a bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other.

"Ah," she prompts as if goading a child to eat their vegetables.

I part my lips for the cool vanilla bean ice cream to melt into the crisp apple streusel, taking in heaven in all its glory to melt on my tongue.

Luna giggles as she hands me the bowl and spoon.

"Gross, ferret. Get a room for your twisted foreplay," is called with a rough clap on my back.

"Sturf id, Weadel," is all the retort I can manage around the unrepentant luxury filling my senses.

Luna guides me from the chatter to a table in the parlour, one set aside from the rest of the commotion. It's lit with five white pillar candles, two bouquets of the full white roses placed to either side. Without making a sound, she waves her wand over the arrangement and the candles transform into a slew of mismatched colours - all but one.

There is a deep espresso, a midnight blue sparkling with silver, a glowing burnished copper and frighteningly bright pink, along with one solemn, solid white.

"They couldn't be with us, so I saved them a seat," Luna explains.

It's now I realize the dark sheen of Pansy's hair, the fathomless blue of Theo's eyes, the bright copper of the perished Weasely and the garish pink known as the signature of my late cousin Dory.

I run my finger into the dripping wax of the white pillar, wiping away the tears my father never dared to shed in this life.

"It's beautiful, lovely. Thank you for remembering them," I tell her, cradling her into her rightful place at my side.

Ted's gruff timbre calls softly across the threshold -

"Ay, kids - it's time for the dancing. Andi just brought out the violin. You won't want to miss it!"

xoXOXox

_A/N: Well readers, this is the end of one journey, and beginning of the next. I have received so many requests to see our characters flourish that I've decided to give you all a series depicting their healing. I'm going to try my hand at fluff when writing the "sequel". I'm not a fluffer, but I have a brilliant slew of witches cheering me on and teaching me to see the bright side of despair, so here goes nothing! _

_The next instalment of this fic will include what happens to Draco, Luna and Co. as they settle into their new lives. We will have our predominant LunarDragon ship with a spattering of Hermione, yes HG will apologise to Sev, gotta get Xeno back to rights, and let's see what happens to Cissy and Andi as they actually have to work for a living, yes? _

_Thank you all so much for entertaining my whimsy and encouraging me every step of the way! Every single review and PM has been one check mark in my endless quest for validation, a drop in the bucket of my sanity to know somewhere out there, someone effing gets it. _

_Special thanks and endless devotion to Tempest E. Dashon (Dash), PheonixDragon111 (Nyxx), Devon A. Snow (Snow, Duh), SlytherClaw Black (Claw) and my Darling Goddess Moon (Acantha Rayne Oak-Moon) for being my loyal supporters and never questioning my particular brand of madness. I love you all from the bottom of my shiny black heart, and never would have made it without you. _

_Vine _


	29. Afterword

Thank you, fantastic readers, for making it to the end of this epic journey with our characters and me.

I told you this is a fic close to my heart, and now I'm going to swallow my own pill of advice and tell you why -

I am first and foremost a non-fiction writer, one who also happens to have a background in data analytics. I've been pursuing writing as a way to learn to invoke empathy and honesty, a way to tell stories that get lost in slews of numbers and stacks of spreadsheets.

If you cried when Narcissa had to part from Draco or when Tonks died during childbirth, or felt a burst of outrage when Snape Imperiused Luna or when Blaise showed no remorse when Theo died, please spare a moment to recognize there are real people undergoing these trials you read.

This is a humanitarian plea, not a political one, although it can be argued they intertwine over multiple vectors. That being said, my family has been torn apart by the U.S. immigration policies, mass incarceration, and woeful lack of adequate healthcare available where I'm from. Wherever you stand on these issues, they have hurt me personally, and this is my story. Try to keep that in mind while you read.

My kids lost their caretaker, who in turn lost her financial stability, which caused me to lose my financial stability. My husband lost his grandmother. My cousins had to flee their fruitful life in their homeland to live in a trailer on borrowed land, and they were lucky. Another of my friends ended up homeless because he's haunted by seeing people skinned alive where he's from, and couldn't get the mental healthcare and support he needed in this country to move past it. He tried to take his life twice during the writing of this fic.

Texas, where I hail from, is the second-largest state in the U.S., hosting two of the most populated cities in the country. We also have the highest maternal mortality rate (read: mothers who die within a year of giving birth) in the entire developed world. My friends and family who I love and care for have been tortured during childbirth. Quite a few touched the robes of death and none of them received adequate follow-up care. One was shamed during a suicide attempt because no one would believe she had prenatal depression. Not a single person cared enough to stand up and make sure she had the care and compassion she deserved.

Finally, if you threw something at the screen when Draco went to jail, maybe spare a thought for my mom, who was locked in a maximum security prison for two years following a severe bout of mental illness after my father passed away. There is no sugar coating the problems that one decision cost our family - her life was utterly ruined and mine was for over a decade. We continue to grow and heal from the trauma, but the scars will remain as long as we do.

I could go on forever about all of the people who have died, every way the people I love have had their souls sucked out by the cold realities that don't have to be this way. But it doesn't matter if you don't care.

That's why I had to kill Lucius, by the way. He could have stopped it. He had the power, the connections, the money to make it happen, but yet he turned a blind eye even as his own son swallowed his pain with drugs to make the pain stop. It's bad out here, folks. Not everyone has a magic carpet or 500,000 galleons to make it out alive. If you do have any power, if you're a nurse or a caretaker, an informed citizen or even a neighbor, I hope this fic moved your heart in a way to show just a tiny bit more empathy, a shred of compassion, and an ounce of effort. You never know when the power will shift, and the life you save may be your own.

Thank you for reading.

May you always have a seat for everyone at your table. May your life be remembered as a lit candle in the wind. Beyond the veil of darkness, may you soar amongst the stars,

Vine


	30. Announcement

Hey Peeps!

I'm going to take this profile down. Well, the stories anyway.

So, if you want to save any of them, do that, and...

If you want news and copies of the original works I'm co-writing with Tempest E. Dashon, message me.

Also, for sneak-peeks of the new stuff, make sure you are following Tempest E. Dashon here.

All my love,

Vine


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